Estoy locomente en el amor que lo duele pero no quiro escaparese porque el es mi corazon. Estoy loca sola, pero con el, estoy loca mas que todos.Puedes comprendir? In the world of insanity, drama, love, heart break and the typical teenage life,. these are the works of Monika Balfanz. Warning; Uncencered Monika Content may not be suitable for everyone. Who I am. This is who I am, what I represent and embody. I am a young girl who feels lost within this world. No one can pick and choose my way for me, for I am my future. No one can fix me, for in my mind my flaws are what make me who I am. Drama seems to follow me whereever I go and engulf me in it's flame of hate. I am in love with a certain someone so much that it hurts. I am only 16 and young by most standards, and so afraid to enter out into this world.I hate the appearence of being weak, for I want to be forever strong. I am me and I am Monika, forever more.
His Love ( A poem about The Odessey)
By Monika Balfanz
With his love far away,
He lies in the sand,
Crying, pining for his love,
Whom he has not seen in years,
He is held in a cage of sorts,
By a seductress,
Whose love, He could never return,
The messenger comes, And he is set free,
He builds a raft, That’s purpose is,
To take him back home,
Back to his Love.
Not Gone for Long
Icicles on my heart sate this fear at last,
Still some can become wildly undone,
Whilst remembering the broken past,
Scared to talk, scared to jump, scared to take that chance,
Scared to laugh, scared to smile, yet I keep up with this dance.
I want to jump, I want to smile, I want to open the heartless gate,
By now I fear, while I’m still here, it may already be too late.
Many bridges crumble down, on earth so brown, as I try to escape,
But darkness sneaks, while I seek, in a shrouded hooded cape,
I can not feel, I can not cry, I have to be forever strong,
And when I die, I can not lie, I will not be gone for long.
For a Special Someone
I really hate Goodbye, I kinda prefer hello,
But I'm not good at either of them so,
insted of some long drawn out event where I get to cry,
I'll think of it as if we'll see eachother again, no tears to dry,
I can never fully exspress myself in words, for I don't think I'm very good,
Just remember that everything is how fate made it to go how it should,
So instead of leaving sorrowful words written in pen,
I shall know in my heart that I shall see you again.
Fairy Tale Romances
Fairy tale romances are never really true. They are nothing but pain and sorrow. Pop culture plays them off as some kind of fantasy that we can play with in our minds, but in truth it is like awesome crazy acid trip that will never end. It throws you through loops like nothing else ever will. It makes you wait up all night just to hear that person's voice. It can make you cry at night because you can't be with them. It can drive you to insanity. Love is when the only reason that you get up in the morning is to see that one person, even when you are sick. Love is when the only reason you listen to mushy-gushy songs is because they remind you of how you feel about that person. Love is when you feel like you can't live without that person. Love is the reason that you are crazy. Love is a sickness that only heartbreak can cure.
Tomorrow
Tomorrow she shall leave, tomorrow I shall cry,
Tomorrow I shall feel pain, tomorrow I shall slowly die Tomorrow I shall see her, tomorrow is a sad day,
Tomorrow she'll be gone, tomorrow I won't know what to say,
Tomorrow, she shall leave me, Tomorrow I shall cry,
Tomorrow is just another day where I have to say goodbye.
Chaos is coming
Chaos is coming, and not even you can stop her
A secret lays within, You can't stop her from her sweet sin.
She's the craziest soul you'll ever see,
and it's hard to believe that she's in me,
like one-part parasite, another-part salvation,
and when's she's unleashed, it'll be death to all the nation,
her insanity is hard to deny,
but speak it aloud, and you know you'll die,
The mask that she's been wearing has been made of a lie,
it's in her twisted web she'll start to tie,
chaos is coming and you're her first kill,
Her thoughts are my thoughts and she's making me ill,
Her angelic face and pearl pink grin,
Behind those eyes lays the evilest sin,
she'll kiss you at night and kill you when you wake,
her thoughts are my thoughts
and it's getting harder to take
She's gonna kill me, I can see it in my mind inside,
I try to escape her but there's nowhere I can hide.
Her kisses are my kisses, her sins are my own,
After all these near misses, I'm better off alone.
Pure Majyck.
Like a rush from kissing that certain someone, it enters your system like venom on a mission. It can help you escape this mundane world, even for just a little while. When I escape, I find myelf in a world where none of this silly drama exists. It's a place where I can be me and not afraid of that fact. It's a place where I can't hurt anyone and they can't hurt me. It's a place where I can be forever with that one special person. It's a place where i can forever dance in the rain with the person I love. It's where the music in my head becomes a surround sound soundtrack for miles on end. It's where hot chocolate and ice cream flow through in rivers and streams and stop at cotton candy falls. It's a place where I can be a princess, even if just a silly one. It's a place where you can never be cold for it is forever warm. It's a place filled with giant gummy bears and snow cones. You can sunbathe in pontoon boats floating on warm lakes full of fish and mermaids. The mermaids sit on gigantic oyster shells, combing their cascading hair that seems to sparkle in the non-blinding sun. Bears and jagaurs of all colors swim along side your boat, and some even climb aboard to take their own nap. It's a place where the highest mountains can be conquered in a day and unconquered within minutes. It's a place where Majyck embraces nature and the trees speak to anyone who passes by. It's a place where you will find me when I don't want to deal with the world. Is it truelly a poisen or just a remedy? Yes, many may try to help me escape, but they will never truelly understand the beauty of this place. I escape to a place where I can love who I chose and not be judged for it. It's a place where I can love everyone and anyone and no one else can stop me. It's a place where even I can feel the warmth of love. It's a place where I can be Majyck, not Bast or Phynyx. Not Mika or CC. Not even Monika. Just Majyck.
Snakes of Withdrawl
As the snakes of withdrawl hiss, I find myself engulfed in their poisen. They curl themselves around my insides and hold tight as if trying to kill me. Their hunger fills my stomach, making the pain almost unbearable. My arms are lashed from nails which curl in frustration and restraint. Maybe if I hurt myself, I can stop taking the stupid little pills. My head aches as the absense of painkillers fills it with regret and sorrow. My emotions are toiled and chaotic as I frantically try to search for my pills. Where are they? Where did i put them. Alas, I discover that my friend has hidden them from me. I know it is for the best but at that moment I do not care. Write what you know. If only I could make it go away for a little while. If only I could make the pain go away. If only I could make the world go away......
The Little Flame Dancer by Monika Balfanz
The slashing sounds of metal begin, She visualizes her ground Movements in her head. Her mind becomes ice As the smoke of Death looms all around The brooding graveyard, foretelling The pending doom. She saw the fields covered with blood Smells of wood burning the air As pyres rise up like ghosts Smoke brings the crackling sound of funeral flames She never truly feels the remorse of battle For she, brave and cunning warrior, Never brings her emotions to the grey hills of combat. Warrior of fire, little flame dancer covered in blood She dances in the heat of battle.
She wanders the blood-stained limbo of Lowerworld Searching forever for a concept of which she has no knowledge of. Her mind is twisted surreal with images of macabre and fright. As she witnesses Death steal last breaths From those whom had fallen. He watches her as well. Images of crimson fields and icy Death. Her knowledge is war and pain. Nothing else. She wanders the maze Contorted bodies lay for miles. Rotting flesh engulfs the air With it’s toxic fumes. She sees the bloodied tears And she can feel fears of those dieing. Death commences his necrophilia dance She can smell blood permeating off of him. Death begins to stalk her. To catch his prey, he glides.
Death waits quietly, He watches those who delay their ending His hypnotizing eyes assist The lure of his face as he draws his victims near With one small glance. The slowly dieing moans Seem screams to the amazonic ears They begin to ring together and become one. Like a chorus of injured angels Death is the victor of this day.
Heavenly Summerland is far, Away from this place it seems She glooms over thoughts of the horizon Death joins her in her contemplation. Fear didn’t overwhelm her. Even the ice didn’t chill her. Death comforted her. It was perhaps the knowledge That she was not alone In this horrid nightmare. Together, as they walk They imagine a world where Fighting would be obsolete They dream of a place where the sun shines And birds sing. A place where she won’t have to fight While they walk, she discovers the true Side of Death. Yes, on his swift wings he does often fly To capture victims too young to defend themselves. But he can also come quietly, Like a sweet lover in the night. Truly has Death been misunderstood?
They come upon a gate of laced gold arches. Radiating Summerland’s essence Of calm and sweet serenity. She at once realized that her dream was no longer a thought. She entered the palace of Summerland She turned to see if Death has followed her, But he is gone. She is only left alone. In the light of sweet horizon The little flame dancer.
The Civil War camps ( A dialogue)
" Okay, I'm officially done with this stuff." Alex ranted on as we tried to finish our class project.
" Hey listen to this." Marcus mused." Says here that in the army camps, it was estimated that over 7,500 prostitues and over 430 brothels were put into use. Must have been some pretty busy soldiers. Plus apparently 8% got veneral diseases from it. What's a veneral disease?"
" An STD." Alex replied sleepily.
" Oh, and it says that since there was no modern medicine they used folk herbs like pokeweed. What's Pokeweed?"
" No idea."
" Oh, and anyways, needless to say, I think they weren't always bored in the army camps. At least they got to to have some fun in between all the fighting and stuff."
"Yeah."
" Oh, and they played cards, wrote letters, played baseball, and read, but tht's no fun. 7,500 prostitues." He sighed." Now that' something to tell the class."
"Yeah."
The Little Flame Dancer(Prose)
By Monika Balfanz
The slashing sounds of metal clanked, marking the beginning of the battle. The little warrior sat on the edge of the brooding graveyard of destruction, clarifying her ground movements in her head. The fields were stained crimson with the blood of comrades and enemies alike. The smell of burning wood filled the air as funeral pyres were built up like ghosts in the night. But alas, the warrior can not feel sorrow for such an event.
Warriors never bring their emotions to the grey hills of battle. Warrior of fire. The little flame dancer. She dances in the flames of heat and battle as violence commences all around her.
She wanders the blood-stained Lowerworld forever searching for something in which she has no knowledge of. Peace. She wanders still, her mind is twisted with surreal images of macabre and horror. Her only knowledge is of pain and war. Blood and Violence. She doesn’t know how to feel emotions anymore.
She wandered the maze of bodies, the bloodied tears and fears of the dead rose up like roses in a field of weeds. The smell of blood engulfed the air as Death himself loomed over the war zone. The little flame dancer prances around, twirling in the embers of battle as they died down. She watches as Death waits quietly for those who delay their endings. They all seem so close, as if Death was only a little away from them. The moans of pain were like screams to the gladiator’s ear. It’s like a constant roaring that will never end.
Summerland is a place far from here, it seems. The warrior walks still, she glooms over thoughts of the horizon. She glanced over thoughts of a better place, one where Death will never be present. She thinks up a place where she won’t have to fight.
She suddenly came upon a gate of golden arches. It lay already open, as if expecting her arrival. She knew that Death still followed her like a thief in the shadows. His steel cold breath was on her neck like a sickness. She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew that she had to flee from this place. Her feet suddenly became posses and ran her through the golden gate. Once she was through, she looked back to see if Death had followed her. Alas, he was gone. She was left alone. Just the little flame dancer.
Courting Death
By Monika Balfanz
“I went insane after long intervals of horrible sanity” As Edgar Allen Poe remarks, I surely agree that insanity has come easy for me after spending time with the mundane of this materialistic world. I don’t think when Mommy dearest was looking down at a cutesy little blond baby with dove eyes she imagined that her child would become anything like me. I’ve somehow transformed from that chubby little cherub into a skinny, pale, red-head who is lost within this chaotic world. I don’t think Mommy would think I would have such a deep understanding of Death and his nature of courting the naive either.
Yes, eighth grade is when you’re supposed to feel on top of the world. Finally, you’ve made it to the top of the food chain, at least until next year. Celebrate when you can, because it won’t last long for soon you’re going to be at the bottom yet again. Funny, I must have skipped that part and went straight to the drama of older years. It’s amazing what lengths you will go to when under stress. Crazy stupid things happen when you don’t want to feel anything anymore. You look for things to save you from the pain of emotions and this thing that I had never really experienced before called stress.
Death had started his courting in the middle of eighth grade, when I was at my most vulnerable and naïve state. Fitting in wasn’t really a problem for me. It was the staying in that state without feeling like I was lying to everyone including myself that was. Everyday left me feeling cheated for not being able to be myself. I had to like things that I truly didn’t like. I had to hate things that I thought were actually cool. It was a masquerade of my being.
At that point, that’s when the pain killers started to work their addicting cyanide poison into my bloodstream. It was quite an accident the first time. Death had quickly embraced me when I wasn’t paying attention. His icy numbing power made me feel invincible. Bravery suddenly wasn’t very hard to find, even when the bravest mundanes would feel fear stepping outside of their box, I was ready to jump. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so lost within this world anymore. However, it took me years to realize that the icy numb feeling of painkillers would slowly turn into the frozen grip of Death ensnaring me.
After only a few months, shamelessly addiction engulfed my life like wildfires within a dry forest. I was so addicted to the feeling of Death’s touch that I would strive for higher and higher dangerous levels. I would always survive. I was only able to work my addiction down to two hour intervals until I would start to feel the hunger of desire. The withdrawal was a sickness that only the painkillers could cure. I had turned from a simple little girl into a shaky, distant, insomniac addict who needed help. My pride didn’t give me room to ask for it, for I never felt like I needed help, at least in my mind frame at the time. I didn’t feel the realization of the severity of the problem until one of my friends ended up in the hospital.
I think I probably would have died if not for this friend. She had always been there for me. I call her my Meimei (which means little sister in Chinese) She had known about the problem and was trying to help me, despite my protests. When push came to shove, she was always there for me. When snakes of withdrawal started to bite, Meimei was there to scare them away. The irony is that when she started to have a problem herself, my addiction blinded me. She tried to understand why I did what I did and I tried to explain it to her. I explained the places I would go to when I was sleeping off the numbness. I would tell her how I never felt any of the pain from the stupid drama that always surrounded me. I told her how in the world, in which I found solace that Death was there with his promising touch of release and comfort. I told her how he promised to end the pain. Neither of us realized that it was just Death sweet talking me into his grasp.
Never in my mind, did I think that she would take it to heart. She tried to imitate and almost ended up dead because of it. She was my friend and she almost died because of me. I still have residual feelings that tell me that I might have well have shoved the pills down her throat, for in her mind I was making it alright for her by justifying my reasons for taking it. . I rushed to the hospital with images in my mind. It should have been me. How could I let this happen to my friend, my sister? Why was I so stupid to get myself addicted in the first place? Is she going to be alright? I could not stop the tears from falling, but even the tears felt shameful. I was the reason she almost died.
I think that was the rudest wake-up call I had ever received. Yes, I had ODed too many times, but it didn’t count until she actually did. I had only known the gentle touch of Death as he embraced me when the venom touched my veins. It wasn’t until then that I saw the deadly grasp of his true side. I could handle anything happening to me, but when it almost killed my sister, I should well have died. Right before that, Death didn’t really scare me. I guess I saw him as a welcomed friend, as emotional as that sounds. I didn’t really fear him until that point when I realized that my best friend in this big crazy world could have disappeared forever.
Mommy never would have understood. I know she wouldn’t have. When I saw Meimei lying in that hospital bed, sickly pale with fright, I felt as if my world was getting smaller. After yelling at her for being so stupid, which I admit at that time was quite hypocritical of me, I finally sat down by myself and cried. The truth of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks and had left quite a bruise upon my mind. I knew I had to fix it.
It took me quite a while to get over my pride and ask for help. Months went by and I just ignored the problem, or at least tried to. It was always in the back of my mind. Memories of the phone call from the hospital floated around in the cobwebbed corners of my memory. Then a breakthrough was made. I had accidentally taken a little too much after school and one of my friends caught me before I hit the ground.
Breaking down isn’t all glamour and soap-opera inspiring. At least not always. It seemed silly when it was happening and quite comical right after I was done. I broke down and told my friend everything. That was when I started to feel the sunny rays of recovery. They always say that the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. I think I definitely jumped through that step with my eyes close. Suddenly Death’s appeal was starting to fade. He no longer gave me the adrenaline rush that once engulfed my life with it’s poisonous nature. Occasionally he would afflict me with nosebleeds and dizzy spells, courtesy of withdrawal symptoms. The pain from the withdrawal leaves me feeling like my insides are eating themselves. I struggle through it though, because I know I can never go back.
2 years and a couple months later, I stand today a different person. I stand as a recovered person. Yes, many times over the past 2 years I had relapsed and traveled back to the dark place that had once captured my mind, body, and soul, but now I stand as a person who knows better. I know the dangerous lure of touching Death and running into his embrace. His courting doesn’t touch me anymore. My understanding of Death has changed quite a bit in the past couple years and now I realize that he is just a sneaky fox who needs to keep his hands to himself.
Gama( Not done)
Take a lot of Polish words and phrases. Add a bit of Scottish features. Dash in some Philly accent. Sprinkle some Catholic superstitions. Stir it all together and heat it with love. Voila, my Gama.
My Gama is the picturesque of oddness. Just imagine any typical little old polish grandmother. Her salt-and pepper hair is always poufy like a loofah. Her “Bedroom eyes.” (As she once told me people used to call them) look into your soul with such tenderness that would always make me just want to go run away with Gama. Gama could take care of me forever and ever. Gama could take on the world and any of the big scary monsters within it.
Her Polak nose always struck me as odd. It is bigger then most noses, I would suppose. It was just odd, but Gama is always beautiful to me, of course. She just had a funny Polak nose. Polak, for those of you who do not know what the term, is descriptive specifically for people of Polish descent, but it has long been forgotten as being a slur. My Gama even uses it teasingly. Yes, my Gama has wrinkles, as any grandmother must have, for it is a requirement of getting older. I love her wrinkles. I always remember that with every wrinkle there was a laugh. The laugh lines around her mouth used to fascinate me as a child.
Yes, I remember being Gama’s baby, even though I was the oldest of all my cousins on my mother’s side. I could get away with sitting on her lap, until I was almost 13. Gama was always my playmate with me when I was younger. Gama taught me how to play Old Maid and Goldfish. She would play with me and my dolls, and even be brave enough to let me braid her hair. Her hair always ended up looking like, “buckwheat” (As she affectionately teases me about)
When I was little, I never really thought about where Gama came from, I just knew that she was Gama and that I was her baby. I knew that I could get anything I wanted if I just batted my eyelashes enough, and if that didn’t work( as if that was often) I would cry my eyes out until I got what I wanted. I didn’t even know what she was until I got to middle school. I figured that her maiden name, Sinclair, was Scottish, so I did some research. I mostly found my interest there. I spent hours looking over papers written on the history of the Sinclair’s. I read how William Sinclair built the great Roslyn Chapel. I read on how Sinclair’s were pretty important in Scotland, being one of the largest clans. As I read of knight, kilts, and chapels, I couldn’t help but ask myself, Gama really comes from these people?
Gama was always my superhero when I was little. She was there to combat the evil monsters of my nightmares, under my bed, and even the extremely nasty ones in my closet. She would charge at them with such intensity that I was sure that no monster would want to face MY Gama. Once I got older, Gama started to lose a grip on her superhero cape, but once I started to research where Gama came from, I realized that Gama was still a superhero and that she was suddenly my hero again. I wanted to discover every little part of Gama’s life. Gama became awesome.
Gama is Philly-born through and through. Don’t mess with Gama when an Eagles game is on, for she will not hesitate to knock you out of the way of the TV. She would always tell me of how she would have to walk to school in feet of snow and walk back home. Philly never closed it’s schools, 2 feet of snow there is a casual normal thing. When Gama was living in Philly, she went to a Catholic school, at least until eighth grade, which I have to admit shocked even me. It made me realize why she was so harsh on me to get good grades and to stay in school.
Fear
As Fear surrounds me, I feel the walls closing in. She engulfs me with her claws of pain and torture. Am I really? Could I possibly be? i hope and pray to the Mother Goddess everynight, hoping that I'm not. I sit up all night and cry, sleep seems like a gateway to Hell as of now,. Fear brings me nightmares when she comes on her nightly visits. She brings nightmares filled with blood and Death, filled with the pain of loss and pain from a child. Suddenly, she lays surrounded, on the floor and covered in blood. Whose blood? Her own and the blood of an innocent not yet born. There is so much of it. It seems as if she might drown in it, like the little one before her. She stares down at the mutliated form, it's dead eyes are locked against hers, as if trying to steal her very soul away and take it into the darkness. She sits there and stares at the form on the floor, no longer moving and covered with blood. She sits there and cries. She cries and cries until there atre no more tears left within her body. The little girl that cried a whole river and drowned the whole world. The little girl and her dead baby.
She dances.
She dances in the sunshine. she dances in the moon.
She dances in the feilds, high in the middle of noon.
She loves him with a passion, brighter then a fire,
His love for her takes them higher and higher
One moment of pleasure, loss of self control.
now she wonders, has she sold her soul?
Will he still love her, will he still care
and if she carries, will he still be there?
Can she go through with it, can she survive.
is there a chance for the love to revive?
she shakes in the morning, she cries in the moon.
She just wants this to be over soon.
Will he still love, will he still hold,
or has their love gone cold?
will she still dance, will he still care?
Will he still be forever there?
Hollow’s Forest By Monika Balfanz
Part One: The White Rabbit
It is in the vicinity of midday when you march into the forest. It was a simple task, you carry on in mind. Just a small delivery of a few goods, nothing but a few hours of walking through the woods. It wouldn’t be dark for quite a while, yes, not for a rather a long while. You keep telling yourself that Auntie will gladly have your Uncle or one of your cousins drive you back home, once you get there….If you get there… No! No! To be paranoid about a few trees and a bit of old moss seems ludicrous, especially when the sun is high in the sky and Hollow’s Forest is nothing but a place thriving with beautiful wildlife. Yes, truth be told, it is know to frighten even the bravest of men, when ventured into at hours of darkness, but the sun is at a standstill up in the sky. You have nothing to fret about. Right?
Yes, you venture in with your head held elevated. Your baked goods are snug in their containers in your pack. The warm aromas of spicy cinnamon and banana seep into the air around you as you walk along the straightforward path. Whispers of dust fill your footsteps as your feet shuffle along the traveler’s way. Yes, keep moving, that’s it. Don’t stop moving and you’ll will certainly get there before Dark comes with her unknown mist of mystery and vulnerability. Slowly a breeze creeps and makes its way down your spine. In effect, you pull the crimson red shawl closer to block out the unwanted intruder from your flesh.
The sounds of far off animals can be heard all around. The croaking of toads from the swampy marsh pond a few yards off echo like a chorus of tribal drums. The twittering of little birds makes it sound as if you walked into a minuscule urban city of some sort. The far off pitter-patter of, what you hope to be modest fox mothers and their kits, crackles leaves gently. You pay the sound no mind, as you are determined to not let your obsession get the best of you. No, you have to focus on getting to Auntie’s house. You had no time to worry about such ridiculous things such as the trickery of your superstitious psyche. Deep in the forest, he watches and waits. The sweet smell of sandalwood and cinnamon tickles his snout like a feather in the carefree wind. The fur on his spine rises are he takes in the sight of his helpless quarry. He was hungry and she was wandering freely into his abode. He couldn’t take her yet though. It would be too simple, too easy. Yes, he was above taking the easy route. He’d have to wait until dark, he’d have to keep her within his grounds until then. Oh, how he loved the chase. Slowly, his sweet howl escaped from his snout lips like it was the sweetest note in his surreal world. She reminded him of Alice, lost in the twisted Wonderland of his Hollow’s Forest. She was surreally stuck in the distortion that she was out of harm's way. She was definitely mistaken, for this White Rabbit had teeth. His lips turned up into a sly grin at his own thoughts, watching his Alice dart deeper into his territory. The darkness was approaching, he could see, for the sun had begun to sink.
You hear him even before you see him. You don’t even truly see him before you start to kick up dust in your wake. The bone-chilling banshee howl of a wolf was enough to give you incentive to run into the unknown parts of the forest, off the well traveled path. You see a flash of white as your peripherals start to blur, speed twisting everything around you. Red crimson flies behind you as your shawl catches the self-made wind as you whirl through the forest, which for some reason had become murky with strange shadows. The darkness increases as you run farther and farther through the old oak spines. You keep going and going, it seems as if the forest was endless. Then you see it, your rescue.
The old spine of an oak was covered with what seemed to be hundreds of years of grey Spanish moss. At first glance, it could knock the sturdiest off their feet out of fear. It does seem as if the ghostly shadow of a plant might come out and grip you like a grim boogieman in the night, but you have no time to consider that now. Darkness is pulling her raven black blanket all around you and you still have yet to see what creatures are lurking within her. You run to climb the atrocity. You waste no time as you triumph over the lowest branches, pulling yourself up higher and higher. “Oh, dear Alice. What a folly you have made now, waking the Heart Queen, or should I say the Heartless Queen of oHHollow’s Forest. The Great Oak Mother will not take kindly to you climbing her as if she were a simple sapling. This I am acquainted with very well. Oh, dear Alice, what naïve foolishness… Maybe the Great Oak Mother will leave you alive long enough for me to play with... Perhaps. If not, then it would be quite a pity.“ The wolf watches
Higher and higher you scale, your skirt catching on several branches along the way. It has become torn in many places, resembling more of a ripped rag then any sort of garment. The old oak seems to continue unto the sky, you realize as it seems to never run out of branches to ascend. You take no mind, as every branch is a barrier between yourself and whatsoever may lurk within the murky bottom floor of Hollow’s Nightmare Forest. It soon becomes so sinister, as to the ground becomes invisible like a bottomless pit of horrendous black. Falling seems like it would become an endless delusion. No, a nightmare. Then the world shakes….
Your footing all of a sudden fails you and your screams resonance throughout all Hollow’s Forest. A tornado sensation surrounds you like a black hole, twisting and spiraling you every which way that it possibly can. Keeping your eyes open suddenly becomes a tiring responsibility as your mind fights a secret battle of consciousness with your body. . Your heart is beating so rapid that it feels as if it might combust. Darkness engulfs you with her consoling blanket as you completely black out into the night. “Yummy, yummy. Told you my Dearie. “The wolf licks his chops as the sound of a thud booms to his ears. His quarry has met her match. The Great Oak Mother threw Alice off of her branches and tossed her like a bug. “I guess dinner is served. Here, Alice, want to see the white rabbit” The wolf approaches.
You awake on the wet grassland of the forest floor. Your head aches with a pain of a thousand jackhammers pounding into it. The foliage towers up past your head, about two feet. Your feet are hidden from even your view. You can see the darkness above your head and the jungle of jade that lays all around you, but that seems to be it. Suddenly, your breath becomes harder and harder to catch. What may play within the maze of grass? The height of the grass provides perfect concealment for the wolf as he slips within the vast grasslands. He allows another howl to ring throughout the forest like a siren’s call. “Just wait for me, my Alice. The White Rabbit is coming. “ Once the howl reaches your ears, you struggle to pull yourself together and get your footing. The creature was back. You have to get out of the forest, but as soon as you stand up, you look up to find that the grass seems to have grown even taller, now towering above your head as you stand. You deduce that it must have been some optical allusion that you were seeing when you were lying down. Confusion swarms through your mind, but you quickly forget it as you suddenly hear the whisper of grass moving. You know that the movement did not come from you. Your heart suddenly seems to feel like it might burst. Dizziness overtakes you as you spin around, trying to figure out which direction the sound was coming from. “Ah, Alice. No running? Tisk Tisk. No matter, though. “The wolf circles the perimeter that the girl set up by circling her little spot. He pants in excitement for the prospect of his prey. The girl suddenly stopped and the wolf saw his opportunity. He jumped.
Your scream resonates for yards around. The creature jumps you from behind, pinning you to the ground with such force that you find it impossible to get up, let alone get out from under the giant wolf. You scream as the feeling of the creature nipping violently at your back and shoulders send pain searing throughout your whole body. You can hear the tearing of fabric as the creature begins to pull at your top, exposing new flesh, in which he would then in turn begin to bite into as well. This goes on, until you can no longer retain consciousness, blackness overtakes you yet again. “Oh, Alice. Wake up my dear. I know you are not dead yet. I can hear your heartbeat. “The wolf licks the red of her back and grabs the scruff of the girl and drags her into the jungle….. The feeling of fur rubbing against you is what awakens you from your deep slumber. Warmth engulfs you, as if a flame was right in front of you. Slowly, your eyes open. You are immediately greeted with the sight of what woke you, fur, and lots of it. White coat covers your eyes, your body, your arms and legs are immobile. Summer rain is the permeated scent that you connect with behemoth of pelt on top of you. You attempt to budge several times, to no avail. You suddenly begin to panic as memories of what occurred before you blacked out fill your cerebral. The creature still has you pinned. You grimace as the pain from the bites begins to seep. It feels as if someone has set your back on fire. Suddenly, the creature stirs. “Ah, has Sleeping Beauty awakened?” The wolf smiles to himself, his ears twitch in excitement. He lay on top of her to prevent his Alice from escaping while he slept, at least that was part of the reason that he laid on top of her. He also was quite fond of her scent. She smells deeply of cinnamon and sandalwood. Now that he was awake and alert, he pulled off of her. “Good Morning, Dearie.”
Fear overtakes you as you watch the words roll off the creature’s lips, or snout, or whatever. Wait, you realize it’s a wolf, so it’s a snout. It’s not like you really wanted to focus on it’s mouth area anyways, with all those pretty shiny fangs. Are hallucinations finally setting in? Are you going senile? A wolf talking was really not described in the venue for today.
“Wha… What?” Your voice is barely audible to even your ears. “I said, good morning. “ The wolf simply replied. Then he considered for a moment. “Do you understand English? You understand English, right?” He sits calmly and statuesque in front of the girl, watching her intently with his silver eyes as if he was trying to peer into her soul.
You stood on your knees, the den hollow (the place the wolf seems to call home and dragged her to) was too small for her to stand comfortably. Your back, though bruised and battered, is tightly pressed against the wall farthest away from the creature.
“Why, of course I speak English. “ You reply, wondering why you are replying to an animal that had no business asking if you spoke English. He is the one who shouldn’t be talking. The wolf just watches you. He just sits and watches. “Well, then what is your problem?” The wolf cocked his head to the side.” Are you hungry Alice? I brought you some rabbit.” The wolf picks up a dead carcass from the other side of the den and drops it in front of you, using his nose to edge it closer to you. “Eat up, you need your strength. It seems that you have to plead with the Great Oak mother for forgiveness. “He goes back to the other side of the den and sits.
“Who?” You ask as you look down at the posthumous rabbit. A grimace graces your face as you witness the blood ooze out of the poor creature. Crimson liquid smeared the white fur of the rabbit a pink color, dieing the creature completely. “And why do I need to plead for her forgiveness? Also, why are you being nice to me? Aren’t you the one who knocked me to the ground and attacked me?” “The Great Oak Mother, the mother of the forest. The Heartless Queen. She was the one who tossed you to the ground, when you tried to climb her. Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners? Trees have feelings too and you just had to climb the Queen. Now, you must plead for her forgiveness in order to get out of here in one piece, preferably all attached. “ The wolf snorted and licked his lips, which sent a chill down your spine. ” Tell me, do you have any sense? I do admit that it was I who attacked you, but I figure if the Queen kills you, I won’t get any chance to play with my prey, so count your blessings MaryAnn.”
“I think I’ll pass on the rabbit. Thanks.” You reply. “Alright, just grovel and I’ll get out of here?” You begin to look for an opening to the den, determined to get out and get to the Queen as quickly as possible. You wanted to return to normalcy. Then you realize something.” Why do you call me Mary Ann?” I’ll have to go with you or else you will never find her. She is never in the same place for very long. Now that she knows that you traverse within her domain, you might ant to have at least one of her loyal subjects as a guide in order to keep her from sending the guards on you.” The wolf stated as he followed you, nipping at your ankle, apparently you were moving too slowly for him, he decided to completely avoid the question about Alice.
You shrug, not wanting to press anymore questions on a creature with teeth sharp enough to rip you to shreds.
“Let us find this Great Oak Mother then, shall we?”
Part 2: The Cheshire Cat
You walk for a while with the wolf, who seemingly still has the wicked habit of calling you Alice.
“Why do you insist on calling me that? That is not my name, I am Sarah.” You affirm. The wolf looks up at you an unusual expression. “Well, my dear. It is simply like this. You are like the fabled Alice stuck in this Wonderland that is called Hollow Forest and I am your White Rabbit.” The wolf continued on. They were back in the towering grasslands, the foliage was still up past the girl’s head.
You halt midstride, shocked at the realization that a wolf would know the story of Alice in Wonderland, but then again that very same wolf was speaking to you and you could understand him. Very strange indeed. It is also for the reason that he still has those pointed teeth that you don’t want to press the matter any further. Oh yeah, those teeth. Your feet seem to find themselves walking again. The bites on your back still make you wince as you stride along in your jungle. The wolf stops in front of you, seemingly for not any reason at all.
“What is it then, Mr. White Rabbit?” The annoyance is reflected in your tone. The Wolf hears a distant sound, unknown to the girl’s ears. “Someone is coming, or rather something. “ His lips are pulled back in a snarl, showing his pretty white teeth. He crouches down, ready to pounce on anything that might come anywhere near them. You start to feel the panic build up within you.
“Oh, no. Not something else. As if this nightmare could become any worse.” You start to complain but your tongue suddenly finds itself tangled and at a loss for words. You hear something, probably what the wolf was hearing. It was the sound of something moving within the grass. Neither you nor the wolf was moving and it sounded like it was getting closer and closer. That meant that you were about to either make a new friend or be made into supper.
The creature’s eyes were the first thing that you saw peering out of the grass.
They were pure yellow like some cyanide poison. The wolf doesn’t seem to notice the eyes watching you, but you can see then clear as day. They just seem to watch you for about what seems to be ten minutes, but it was probably shorter. They don’t even blink. Suddenly, the glistening of white shows. Is it smiling at you? Is there some crazy creature in the grass, with what seems to be a nice set of jaws, smiling at you? And you thought that this place couldn’t get any weirder. Suddenly, a flash of white flashes in front of you, even before you could call out to the creature, which probably would have been a bad idea anyways. The white flash turns out to be your knight in shining armor, Mr. White Rabbit. “Save your smile for something a little less tasty, shall you?” The wolf snarls as he pins the black cat to the ground. His teeth make contact with neck of the feline, threatening to snap it in half like a small twig. The cat laughs, or was it choking. No one could really tell, perhaps a little bit of both. “Why, I was just admiring the pretty poppet that climbed the Great Queen, you loopy lupine. “ The cat lazily replied. His grin was still plastered on his face and his eyes were still stuck in their analyzing gaze. His black fur shook as he laughed, as if there was some joke in his head that he had forgotten to tell.
You back up, not wanting to get involved with either of the two huge creatures who could both probably eat you whole, shredded skirt and all. “You’ll pay no mind to her, she’s not for you. I have already laid my claim on her and you will do good to forget about any thoughts that you might have. I have to take her to the great Queen then I shall do with her what I wish. “The wolf eased off of his opponent’s throat. “ So, I take it the whole forest already knows of what my dear Alice has gone and done?” The wolf asked the jaguar, completely releasing him. “Why, of course my compadre. You know how the trees love to gossip, and it has been quite a while since anyone has ventured here after dark. “The black jaguar got to his feet. “ Alright, monsieur, I’ll keep that in mind, but take heed to keep her close. You know how the queen’s guards are everywhere.” “Yes, I’ll keep that in mind, now go and don’t waste a minute.” The jaguar was gone.
You were stuck on the part about the trees gossiping, and to admit, that was a pretty interesting thought. You shrugged off the part about the jaguar talking, for the reason that if the wolf could talk, why couldn’t the big kitty cat talk as well. You also barely caught the last part about the guards being everywhere, which made you look around you as swift paranoia sunk in a little deeper then it had been before.
“Can’t we just get to this Great Oak Mother person before I go insane?”
Teen Vogue interview of Trebmuh, the White Wolf from Hollow’s Forest
The interviewer watches as the White Wolf stalks into what his co-workers affectionately call the “Interrogation Room.” The White Wolf positions himself comfortably in front of the chair that the interviewer is sitting in and sits down on his back paws. Interviewer; Alright, let’s begin with the basics. Where were you born? [The wolf huffs, as if taking a deep breath] Trebmuh; Ah, well I was born in the twisted magic of hollow’s Forest. I was made of the harsh wind and infinite darkness that haunts it’s black spines. [The wolf seems to be smiling, as if trying to taunt the interviewer, scaring him with his descriptions] Interviewer; Alright, so a bad environment. What about your mother? How was your relationship with her? [The wolf is silent for a moment, as if trying to recall something.] Trebmuh; My mother? What about her? In order to have a relationship with my mother, I would have had to have found her within the eighty years of my life. I haven’t seen my mother since the day that she abandoned me. I was barely two weeks old. The old queen of the forest, Marishkah took me in as her own and cared for me. She was my mother, or at least as close to one that I have ever had. Interviewer; Oh, how nice…. And your father? [The wolf shrugs] Interviewer; Hm… Alright. Moving on, how was living with the old reigning queen of the forest? Trebmuh; Living with her? She wasn’t very demanding as far as queens go. She requested very little from her subjects. She only wanted loyalty and peace throughout her kingdom. She was quite nice. She gifted all of her people with the power of speech, most liked her for that…. Interviewer; Alright… but what about your relationship with her? Where you two close? Were you two more then just bodyguard and queen? [The wolf stares at the interviewer, his eyes are starting to turn silver, to match his fur.] Trebmuh; If you are trying to infer that we had a sexual relationship, then you would be wise to curb your tongue. We were like mother and son that it is. Interviewer; Alright [The Interviewer seems to have gotten nervous] what about your connection to this exile, Sarah person? What are the rumors with her? [The wolf’s eyes grow wide, as if not expecting the question.] Trebmuh; Oh, her? She’s nothing. I have no idea what you are talking about. Interviewer; Oh, really? [The Interviewers smiles sinisterly as he pulls out some papers, showing them to the wolf.] Then what is with the reports of a warranted search of your den? Apparently, they found a red cape, baked goods, and torn female garments. How do you explain that? [The wolf’s mouth drops.] Trebmuh; Oh, you see… I…. I plead the fifth?
Lover Letter
By Monika Balfanz
It was a sad day when Miss Marie Howards was found dead in her very own kitchen. She was the sweetest old lady, if anyone had asked any of her neighbors about her. When her funeral procession proceeded down the streets, you would have thought the whole city had taken a day off to mourn the death of this lady. Car after car glided down Virginia Beach Boulevard. It must have taken at least thirty minutes for every car to get through so that the rest of the city could continue with their day. The funeral ceremony had been one of a grandeur scale. Flowers seemed to sprout out of the cracks in the church. A chorus on wounded angels seemed to cry as words were said in remembrance of this great lady. It was greatly emphasized on how great of an asset to the city of Virginia Beach she was, leaving out the fact that ten years ago she had suddenly lost it and became hermit in nature. It was mentioned on how she helped out the Lady’s Circle in her church with feeding the homeless and building shelters for the abandoned children and abused mothers of the city. She was hailed as the City’s great mother. She took care of Virginia Beach’s children and raised money to help provide funding for schools to provide better education. Her whole life story was portrayed like a fairytale out of a children’s book. It was remarked on how she had a hard childhood. Her mother was a single parent, working two jobs to just make ends meet. The mayor explained on how Miss Marie used education to get out of her situation. Miss Marie strived to be better then what her childhood was. She pushed herself into college and got a good degree. She then came back and worked to try and better the lives of other children in the community. To the whole city, she seemed like a hero in old woman’s clothing. Her lady friends remarked on how strong she was when her husband Howard was found murdered in his office. He was found by his secretary dead with three puncture wounds to his neck. Miss Marie was heart-broken and declared that the entire police force and its resources be put to use in finding her husband’s killer. The mayor, keeping in mind that Miss Marie was a great influence when it came to persuading the people of the city, agreed to her request. Many months were spent in search for clues. The paper printed ads, requesting for any information as to the circumstances of the murder, hoping that some shy witness or even just a tiny bit of information would show up. The only clues that they had were the three puncture wounds that appeared on his neck. No one could think up what they could have been caused from. Houses of suspected individuals were searched, hoping to find something three pronged, but no luck.
Police were utterly stuck….
Two months after everyone gave up hope of finding any killers, Miss Marie locked herself within her home. She only ventured out to go the grocery store. Even there, she barely spoke to anyone. She would scare the little ones with just the glance of her critical eyes. She became like the boogieman of the city. For ten years, no one spoke with her. Parents would tell their children not to stay out too late or that the old crazy lady that lived up the road would come and get them.
Why did they call her crazy? It is said that she is cursed. Her whole family is. For, her father died the same way in which her husband did, although the police didn’t take into accountant of that supernatural mumbo jumbo. It is said that all the woman of her family are destined to outlive their husbands and become widows at an early age. Her father was found in his bedroom, stabbed in the stomach. They object that was used to kill him was three pronged as well. The police considered it just a coincidence, but the older families of Virginia Beach knew better. It was rumored that Miss Marie’s great-great-great grandfather had gone to New Orleans and had made a faulty deal with a Hoodoo Priestess, which turned out to backfire against him when he tried to con the priestess. He was to have nothing but female children and they were all to outlive their husbands. Most policemen from older families decided not to really get involve, for fear that the dreaded Murphy Curse might reach out to them.
Miss Emily had no other living relatives when she died, the lawyers were puzzled as to what her Will might say. They all about cried tears of sentiment when they read that everything that miss Emily owned was to go to Charity, specifically charity to help out children. Her house was immediately opened the next day in order to take stock of her belongings. Many of the Lady’s Circle members had come to help the labor men, making snacks and drinks for them. The house was covered in dust and cobwebs. It was also filled with quite a few priceless antiques. Huge portraits of family members were displayed above fireplaces and in every room. They were all in almost perfect condition.
A huge decorative vase was placed over the mantle of the largest fireplace in the house. It’s baroque design laid covered in gold and dust. Everyone in the house immediately knew what it was, it was her husband’s Urn. It was understandable that it was still there. As the Ladies worked to try and clean out the kitchen, removing old and moldy food from the fridge and cleaning out the pantry to go to the homeless shelter. The reminisced over memories of Miss Marie. They tried their hardest to remember Howard as well, but it was hard, seeing as they were only married for two months before his untimely death. One lady, her next door neighbor, Miss Clarice, had taken the tack of cleaning the silverware and found a very pretty fork, or at least she was pretty sure it was pretty, underneath all the tarnish. She had tried everything to try and remove it, but to no avail. She was pulling out the silverware holder when suddenly a piece of paper fell out from the bottom of it. She picked it up carefully and unfolded it. It seemed to have been written recently. Dear ladies and gentlemen, I present you the case of Miss Marie Murphy. If you are reading this, then most likely I have died. I couldn’t take it anymore. No, I am not talking about any stupid curse, like there was much of one to begin with. My name is Marie Murphy and I can honestly tell you that the curse did not kill the men who wedded the Murphy woman, I can tell you that. The curse only gave us the bad luck of wedding the must disloyal men in existence. The woman just simply killed them. This silly curse started with my great grandfather and it has ended with me. Goodbye. With love, Miss Marie Murphy. P.s. Might not want to use those forks ever again. It’s not tarnish.
Hatter Mad By Monika Balfanz
Hatter Mad, Hatter Mad, what a silly dream you live Roses hunter green lay within you silk hat top You dash and dance through the party unbirth And you sing and proclaim death happy Hatter Mad, Hatter Mad, and your mouse cup tea you tip and toss Twist and turn, turn and twist your bonnet round Cotton and satin stains wine blood as you climb madness rapidly Tutu you sway back and forth, declaring death happy Declare unbirth merry When not busy being born, too busy dying Unhappy day-birth.
4/21/08
Daddy had been gone for quite a while, or so Mommy had told me. I had yet to finally meet him, I had yet to see that he wasn’t just an imaginary man in mommy’s mind. Mommy showed me pictures and oh, how I stayed glued to them. I always had them with me. I would stare at them for hours upon hours. These pictures would show a giant of a man with cinnamon brown hair. His eyes reminded me of chocolate. He had muscles that reminded me of Pope-Eyed Pete the sailor, but I still wondered in the back of my mind if he was real. It had been a normal kindergarten day. I was walking down our dead-end street back home. My little Scooby-Doo backpack bounced on my back followed by my blond piggy-tails. I hadn’t thought about Daddy in quite a while. I remember asking Mommy where Daddy was, a while before, but she used a lot of words that I didn’t understand. Deployment. Stationed. Sailor. None of these were very comprehensible to me. Anyways, I was walking home and all of a sudden I see that there is this big man in the middle of our street. I mean, right smack in the middle. It wasn’t like he was going to get hit or anything, but why would someone just stand in the middle of the street for no apparent reason. As far as I could see, he was standing in front of my house.
Baby Jaguar By Monika Balfanz
Little baby jaguar stalking in the mid-night Camouflaged in darkness, hidden from their sight Angel roar resounds throughout the darkened playground A little child comes out to play with curiosity unbound Tasting scarlet blood running through the earth Searching old places of his mother’s birth Splashing in the water deep with the bugs as his best friends Muddy paw prints trek through the dirty bends Lapping at the kisses of sweet dew drops laid for him Play time that lasts forever, hoping it will never cease Dancing into the Moon Mother’s embrace keeping with the ancient predator chase. Part of me is a little jaguar child Age brings me to this deep, dark, wild,
Dear Friend
Can you feel my tears, Hit the mourning Earth? Dear friend of mine, Death Embraces you child. Family and friends Gather in black clouds Can you see the smiles They force outwardly? They appear as if They can not mourn you. Viewing unneeded, Unwanted, right now. To remember you, As you were before. Mother Earth mourns loss, Her dear child is gone, Can you hear her call Out your name in vain? My friend, paradise Welcomes you sweetly Can you hear the Earth Mourn her loss of life? Can you feel my tears Hit the mourning Earth? Can you hear me cry Out your name in vain?
The Tango Dancer The Tango dancer is without a care, Twirling and swirling to the swift beat, The music electrifies the sweet air.
Moving in ways that no one else would dare, Her burgundy flower skirt flies up high The tango dancer is without a care
She only laughs, silly men stop and stare, They will never work up the confidence. The music electrifies the sweet air
Two by two, they separate into pair Alone she dances, not needing a man, The tango dancer is without a care,
Her eyes are of a variety rare, Deep black onyx that stare into your soul The music electrifies the air,
She wishes that this night will never end Beats that last eternally within her, The tango dancer is without a care The music electrifies the sweet air.
Hollow's Forest, redone. * not finished* It was in that twisted place named Hollow’s Forest where I found the true meaning of wonderland. It was a place where the trees contorted to their moods and the birds sang songs instead of chirping. Shadows move and follow to their hearts content. Flowers stare and ponder their fates with vanity and egotism. Rabbits obsess and pedophile jaguars speak French.Smoky dragons speak in riddles and tea parties celebrate death.Also, keep an eye out for those demented tree queens that are out to get you…… Ladies and gentlemen… Welcome to Hollow’s Forest. It was in Hollow’s Forest that I descended reality into what I like to call a little dose of surrealism.I had to cross through that stupid forest.I was on my way to my aunt’s house and the forest was the only way to get there in less than two hours. In my pack laid the little pastries that my mother had baked for my aunt.The warm aromas of spicy cinnamon and banana seep into the air around me as I walked along the straightforward path. Whispers of dust filled my footsteps as my feet shuffled along the traveler’s way. Yes, keep moving, that’s it. Don’t stop moving and I will certainly get there before Dark comes with her unknown mist of mystery and vulnerability. Slowly a breeze crept and made its way down my spine. In effect, I pulled the crimson red shawl closer to block out the unwanted intruder from my flesh. I wasn’t afraid, even though I had been told ever since I could listen that hollow’s Forest was haunted.Yeah right. The sounds of far off animals could be heard all around. The croaking of toads from the swampy marsh pond a few yards off echo like a chorus of tribal drums. The twittering of little birds made it sound as if I walked into a minuscule urban city of some sort. The far off pitter-patter of, what I hoped to be modest fox mothers and their kits, crackles leaves gently. I paid the sound no mind, as I was determined to not let my obsession get the best of me. No, I had to focus on getting to Auntie’s house. I had no time to worry about such ridiculous things such as the trickery of my superstitious psyche. Deep in the forest, he watches and waits. The sweet smell of sandalwood and cinnamon tickles his snout like a feather in the carefree wind. The fur on his spine rises are he takes in the sight of his helpless quarry. He was hungry and she was wandering freely into his abode. He couldn’t take her yet though. It would be too simple, too easy. Yes, he was above taking the easy route. He’d have to wait until dark, he’d have to keep her within his grounds until then. Oh, how he loved the chase. Slowly, his sweet howl escaped from his snout lips like it was the sweetest note in his surreal world. She reminded him of Maryann, his love, lost in the twisted Wonderland of his Hollow’s Forest. She was surreally stuck in the distortion that she was out of harm's way. She was definitely mistaken, for this wolf had teeth. His lips turned up into a sly grin at his own thoughts, watching his prey dart deeper into his territory. The darkness was approaching, he could see, for the sun had begun to sink. I heard him even before I saw him and I didn’t even truly wait to see him before I started to kick up dust in my wake. The bone-chilling banshee howl of a wolf was enough to give me incentive to run into the unknown parts of the forest, off the well traveled path. I saw a flash of white as my peripherals started to blur, speed twisted everything around me. Red crimson flied behind me as my shawl caught the self-made wind as I whirled through the forest, which for some reason had become murky with strange shadows. The darkness increased as I ran farther and farther through the old oak spines. I kept going and going, it seemed as if the forest was endless. Then I saw it, my rescue. True, the sight of the rough and dangerous river would probably make most stomachs turn with motion sickness, but alas it was the bridge that caught my eye. If only I could make it across. The bridge was something straight out of an Indiana Jones flick.It was small and narrow and looked as if one step might send you hurling down to the rabid rapid below, but it was my chance to get away.No way josé was Alice Summers going to be dinner tonight. Yeah, I was scared as I took the first step across the first plank of the swinging bridge, but the howl that erupted from behind me changed that real quickly. I started to take a second step and a third, it was on the fourth step that I started to hear growling from behind me.I slowly turned around, avoiding sending myself off the bridge and faced the snarling creature. Once my eyes met it’s eye, I couldn’t look away from the huge wolf-like creature.It didn’t completely look like a wolf because of it’s size.It was bigger then me! It looked like a rapid dog from hell and it seemed determined to make me it’s food. They were fury red like a fire truck and staring straight at me like I was a la carte. I was only able to tear my eyes away from the glowing red when suddenly one of it’s claws made a swipe at me, that’s when my breath failed me.See, I was so captivated by it’s eyes that I forgot to check if it had nails….or in this case claws that could make a big bad lion humble. “Oh sugar snaps.” My voice whispered across the bridge, which he must have thought was funny because a grin seemed to slowly spread across its muzzle.The wolf was grinning.
Crimson Hate by Monika Balfanz Crimson hate courses through me like a fire Lit up in the starry rage of the night. Your smile can only make the flames higher You laugh even though you know I’m right. I scream and yell to make you see a right Nothing but violence can result in the end. I try to change you will all my might I need to make sense of the rules you bend Bridges that we need to mend. Hate is my poison, stifling my breath Patience for you does not come by God-send. Crimson hate driven into blood red death Black chaos, fading into burgundy Can’t you see the hate you pull out of me?
Heart of a Demon By Monika Balfanz Synopsis Scene 1; In the wondrous city of Inferno, in the heart of all Demon realm, , lies the castle of the Demon king, Markus. Markus is a good king to his people, but yet there are those who want him dead so that they can have the throne to themselves. Since he and his ruling queen Marishka, have yet to bear child he knows that the throne is not yet secure.He has tried many times to have his wife bear child, only to have her lose it in miscarriage. Scene 2; What he does not know is that his beloved queen Marishka is having an affair with Markus’s top general, Damien. Together Damien and Marishka plot the murder of Markus. One night, they meet in secret in Damien’s bedchamber. Marishka comes up with the plan to get Markus drunk and to take him back to the royal bedchamber.It is there she tells Damien that he should murder the king.Damien agrees with the idea and Marishka departs, leaving Damien to his thoughts.He contemplates the fact that he has just agreed to murder his king. What neither of them knows is that Porto, the king’s advisor has ease dropped into their conversation. Scene 3; Porto runs to tell the king what he has heard.At first, the king doesn’t believe him and declares him mad. Then Porto calls up a guard, who tells the king that he has seen the queen sneak into General Damien’s room many times. The King finally sees the truth and comes up with a plan. Scene 4; The banquet is grand and many are drinking past their due.Many of the demon generals are drunk or asleep.The banquet is loud and messy, but nonetheless, Marishka and Damien refrain from drinking.The King only pretends to be drinking, trying to appear as drunk as possible. When it is determined that the king has had enough to drink, Marishka signals to Damien, who then disappears.Marishka, with the help of a few guards, gets the king to his bedchamber.She then dismisses the guards and sits on the edge of the king’s bed.While she gentle talks in soothing voices to the drunken king, Damien sneaks into the shadows with a knife in his hand.The king sees Damien, but pretends not to notice that he is there.When Damien prepares to strike, the king rises up and grabbed the queen with a knife in his hand and holds it against her throat. He tosses the queen onto the bed and threatens her to stay there. The king tells them both that he knows of their treachery and that for their misdeeds they shall die.Marishka yells at Damien to kill Markus, but it is too late for Markus lunges for Damien. The two battle back and forth, the queen yells encouragement for Damien. As Damien defends himself, he tells the king that he didn’t want to really kill him and that it was Marishka who seduced him. The queen calls him a coward and lunges for the king herself, plunging her own hidden knife through his heart. The king dies slowly and painfully. That is when Porto comes and see the king dead.Out of rage, he swings at the queen and kills her.When he goes to kill Damien, he discovers that he is crying over Markus’s body and decides to keep him alive.
Scene 2; [Open in a dimly lit room, General Damien is lying on his bed, in his sleeping clothes.He seems as if his is waiting for someone. Candles are laid all over the room, lit. Suddenly, the door to his room opens and a shrouded figure emerges.It is a female covered in black.Slowly she removes her shroud and goes to embrace Damien, who holds her as tightly as he can.No words are spoken for a moment as they gaze up into each other’s eyes.] Marishka; Damien, dear.The guards are out and about tonight.I barely made it past the gardens. [Damien gently strokes her cheek and sadly smiles.] Damien; I wish it didn’t have to be like this, my queen.I wish we could just be together without the fear of discovery. Marishka; But truly if we would discovery, I’m sure you know what would happen.The king would burn us both in the lake of perpetual agony. [Damien nods] Damien; Yes, I know my love.I just was remarking how I wish it wasn’t this way. I wish we were free to love each other without restraint. Alas, you are right, the king would never allow us to live if we were discovered. [Marishka frees herself from his arms and starts to pace around his room, when he goes to embrace her again; she wiggles out of his arms and starts to pace yet again.] Damien; what is on your mind woman!?What has you pacing my room like a hellcat? [Marishka holds up her hand to shush him] Marishka; My dear Damien if I told you there was a way that we could be together and no one would bother to question us of it? Damien; what do you mean? [Damien sits back down on his bed and looks at her. Marishka walks over to him and grabs his hands, holding them to her heart.] Marishka; What if the king was no longer an issue? [They look at each other for a moment. Damien; You can’t mean…. You can’t possibly imply that I… Are you mad?! [He yanks his hands from Marishka and gets up off of his bed.He begins to pace around his room. Marishka turns to face him] Marishka;Would it be mad?Is it?…. Does it make me mad? Huh?It has been done for centuries, even before you and I were born love and….. We could be together. [Marishka stops Damien in his tracks and kisses him softly on the lips. Damien looks down at her.] Damien;But what you are speaking about is murder and disloyalty. [Marishka shrugs] Marishka;So?It’s not like it the worst crime imaginable to our kind.Would you rather just sit here and let the opportunity pass you by?Think about it, you could be king and I your queen and your alone.Wouldn’t it be magnificent? [Damien looks into her eyes and sits back down on the bed.] Marishka;My dear, the opportunity will be present at the banquet, the night after tomorrow.All we need to do is make sure that he drinks enough to not realize when you plunge the knife into his heart. [Suddenly a shadow moves on the wall, a shadow the size of a man. Marishka watches it but then decides it was nothing.The curtain closes]
RR
Estoy locomente en el amor que lo duele pero no quiro escaparese porque el es mi corazon. Estoy loca sola, pero con el, estoy loca mas que todos.Puedes comprendir? In the world of insanity, drama, love, heart break and the typical teenage life,. these are the works of Monika Balfanz. Warning; Uncencered Monika Content may not be suitable for everyone. Who I am. This is who I am, what I represent and embody. I am a young girl who feels lost within this world. No one can pick and choose my way for me, for I am my future. No one can fix me, for in my mind my flaws are what make me who I am. Drama seems to follow me whereever I go and engulf me in it's flame of hate. I am in love with a certain someone so much that it hurts. I am only 16 and young by most standards, and so afraid to enter out into this world.I hate the appearence of being weak, for I want to be forever strong. I am me and I am Monika, forever more.
His Love ( A poem about The Odessey)
By Monika Balfanz
With his love far away,
He lies in the sand,
Crying, pining for his love,
Whom he has not seen in years,
He is held in a cage of sorts,
By a seductress,
Whose love, He could never return,
The messenger comes, And he is set free,
He builds a raft, That’s purpose is,
To take him back home,
Back to his Love.
Not Gone for Long
Icicles on my heart sate this fear at last,
Still some can become wildly undone,
Whilst remembering the broken past,
Scared to talk, scared to jump, scared to take that chance,
Scared to laugh, scared to smile, yet I keep up with this dance.
I want to jump, I want to smile, I want to open the heartless gate,
By now I fear, while I’m still here, it may already be too late.
Many bridges crumble down, on earth so brown, as I try to escape,
But darkness sneaks, while I seek, in a shrouded hooded cape,
I can not feel, I can not cry, I have to be forever strong,
And when I die, I can not lie, I will not be gone for long.
For a Special Someone
I really hate Goodbye, I kinda prefer hello,
But I'm not good at either of them so,
insted of some long drawn out event where I get to cry,
I'll think of it as if we'll see eachother again, no tears to dry,
I can never fully exspress myself in words, for I don't think I'm very good,
Just remember that everything is how fate made it to go how it should,
So instead of leaving sorrowful words written in pen,
I shall know in my heart that I shall see you again.
Fairy Tale Romances
Fairy tale romances are never really true. They are nothing but pain and sorrow. Pop culture plays them off as some kind of fantasy that we can play with in our minds, but in truth it is like awesome crazy acid trip that will never end. It throws you through loops like nothing else ever will. It makes you wait up all night just to hear that person's voice. It can make you cry at night because you can't be with them. It can drive you to insanity. Love is when the only reason that you get up in the morning is to see that one person, even when you are sick. Love is when the only reason you listen to mushy-gushy songs is because they remind you of how you feel about that person. Love is when you feel like you can't live without that person. Love is the reason that you are crazy. Love is a sickness that only heartbreak can cure.
Tomorrow
Tomorrow she shall leave, tomorrow I shall cry,
Tomorrow I shall feel pain, tomorrow I shall slowly die
Tomorrow I shall see her, tomorrow is a sad day,
Tomorrow she'll be gone, tomorrow I won't know what to say,
Tomorrow, she shall leave me, Tomorrow I shall cry,
Tomorrow is just another day where I have to say goodbye.
Chaos is coming
Chaos is coming, and not even you can stop her
A secret lays within, You can't stop her from her sweet sin.
She's the craziest soul you'll ever see,
and it's hard to believe that she's in me,
like one-part parasite, another-part salvation,
and when's she's unleashed, it'll be death to all the nation,
her insanity is hard to deny,
but speak it aloud, and you know you'll die,
The mask that she's been wearing has been made of a lie,
it's in her twisted web she'll start to tie,
chaos is coming and you're her first kill,
Her thoughts are my thoughts and she's making me ill,
Her angelic face and pearl pink grin,
Behind those eyes lays the evilest sin,
she'll kiss you at night and kill you when you wake,
her thoughts are my thoughts
and it's getting harder to take
She's gonna kill me, I can see it in my mind inside,
I try to escape her but there's nowhere I can hide.
Her kisses are my kisses, her sins are my own,
After all these near misses, I'm better off alone.
Pure Majyck.
Like a rush from kissing that certain someone, it enters your system like venom on a mission. It can help you escape this mundane world, even for just a little while. When I escape, I find myelf in a world where none of this silly drama exists. It's a place where I can be me and not afraid of that fact. It's a place where I can't hurt anyone and they can't hurt me. It's a place where I can be forever with that one special person. It's a place where i can forever dance in the rain with the person I love. It's where the music in my head becomes a surround sound soundtrack for miles on end. It's where hot chocolate and ice cream flow through in rivers and streams and stop at cotton candy falls. It's a place where I can be a princess, even if just a silly one. It's a place where you can never be cold for it is forever warm. It's a place filled with giant gummy bears and snow cones. You can sunbathe in pontoon boats floating on warm lakes full of fish and mermaids. The mermaids sit on gigantic oyster shells, combing their cascading hair that seems to sparkle in the non-blinding sun. Bears and jagaurs of all colors swim along side your boat, and some even climb aboard to take their own nap. It's a place where the highest mountains can be conquered in a day and unconquered within minutes. It's a place where Majyck embraces nature and the trees speak to anyone who passes by. It's a place where you will find me when I don't want to deal with the world. Is it truelly a poisen or just a remedy? Yes, many may try to help me escape, but they will never truelly understand the beauty of this place. I escape to a place where I can love who I chose and not be judged for it. It's a place where I can love everyone and anyone and no one else can stop me. It's a place where even I can feel the warmth of love. It's a place where I can be Majyck, not Bast or Phynyx. Not Mika or CC. Not even Monika. Just Majyck.
Snakes of Withdrawl
As the snakes of withdrawl hiss, I find myself engulfed in their poisen. They curl themselves around my insides and hold tight as if trying to kill me. Their hunger fills my stomach, making the pain almost unbearable. My arms are lashed from nails which curl in frustration and restraint. Maybe if I hurt myself, I can stop taking the stupid little pills. My head aches as the absense of painkillers fills it with regret and sorrow. My emotions are toiled and chaotic as I frantically try to search for my pills. Where are they? Where did i put them. Alas, I discover that my friend has hidden them from me. I know it is for the best but at that moment I do not care. Write what you know. If only I could make it go away for a little while. If only I could make the pain go away. If only I could make the world go away......
The Little Flame Dancer by Monika Balfanz
The slashing sounds of metal begin,
She visualizes her ground
Movements in her head.
Her mind becomes ice
As the smoke of Death looms all around
The brooding graveyard, foretelling
The pending doom.
She saw the fields covered with blood
Smells of wood burning the air
As pyres rise up like ghosts
Smoke brings the crackling sound
of funeral flames
She never truly feels the remorse of battle
For she, brave and cunning warrior,
Never brings her emotions to the grey hills of combat.
Warrior of fire, little flame dancer covered in blood
She dances in the heat of battle.
She wanders the blood-stained limbo of Lowerworld
Searching forever for a concept of which she has no knowledge of.
Her mind is twisted surreal with images of macabre and fright.
As she witnesses Death steal last breaths
From those whom had fallen.
He watches her as well.
Images of crimson fields and icy Death.
Her knowledge is war and pain.
Nothing else.
She wanders the maze
Contorted bodies lay for miles.
Rotting flesh engulfs the air
With it’s toxic fumes.
She sees the bloodied tears
And she can feel fears of those dieing.
Death commences his necrophilia dance
She can smell blood permeating off of him.
Death begins to stalk her.
To catch his prey, he glides.
Death waits quietly,
He watches those who delay their ending
His hypnotizing eyes assist
The lure of his face as he draws his victims near
With one small glance.
The slowly dieing moans
Seem screams to the amazonic ears
They begin to ring together and become one.
Like a chorus of injured angels
Death is the victor of this day.
Heavenly Summerland is far,
Away from this place it seems
She glooms over thoughts of the horizon
Death joins her in her contemplation.
Fear didn’t overwhelm her.
Even the ice didn’t chill her.
Death comforted her.
It was perhaps the knowledge
That she was not alone
In this horrid nightmare.
Together, as they walk
They imagine a world where
Fighting would be obsolete
They dream of a place where the sun shines
And birds sing.
A place where she won’t have to fight
While they walk, she discovers the true
Side of Death.
Yes, on his swift wings he does often fly
To capture victims too young to defend themselves.
But he can also come quietly,
Like a sweet lover in the night.
Truly has Death been misunderstood?
They come upon a gate of laced gold arches.
Radiating Summerland’s essence
Of calm and sweet serenity.
She at once realized that her dream
was no longer a thought.
She entered the palace of Summerland
She turned to see if Death has followed her,
But he is gone.
She is only left alone.
In the light of sweet horizon
The little flame dancer.
The Civil War camps ( A dialogue)
" Okay, I'm officially done with this stuff." Alex ranted on as we tried to finish our class project.
" Hey listen to this." Marcus mused." Says here that in the army camps, it was estimated that over 7,500 prostitues and over 430 brothels were put into use. Must have been some pretty busy soldiers. Plus apparently 8% got veneral diseases from it. What's a veneral disease?"
" An STD." Alex replied sleepily.
" Oh, and it says that since there was no modern medicine they used folk herbs like pokeweed. What's Pokeweed?"
" No idea."
" Oh, and anyways, needless to say, I think they weren't always bored in the army camps. At least they got to to have some fun in between all the fighting and stuff."
"Yeah."
" Oh, and they played cards, wrote letters, played baseball, and read, but tht's no fun. 7,500 prostitues." He sighed." Now that' something to tell the class."
"Yeah."
The Little Flame Dancer(Prose)
By Monika Balfanz
The slashing sounds of metal clanked, marking the beginning of the battle. The little warrior sat on the edge of the brooding graveyard of destruction, clarifying her ground movements in her head. The fields were stained crimson with the blood of comrades and enemies alike. The smell of burning wood filled the air as funeral pyres were built up like ghosts in the night. But alas, the warrior can not feel sorrow for such an event.
Warriors never bring their emotions to the grey hills of battle. Warrior of fire. The little flame dancer. She dances in the flames of heat and battle as violence commences all around her.
She wanders the blood-stained Lowerworld forever searching for something in which she has no knowledge of. Peace. She wanders still, her mind is twisted with surreal images of macabre and horror. Her only knowledge is of pain and war. Blood and Violence. She doesn’t know how to feel emotions anymore.
She wandered the maze of bodies, the bloodied tears and fears of the dead rose up like roses in a field of weeds. The smell of blood engulfed the air as Death himself loomed over the war zone. The little flame dancer prances around, twirling in the embers of battle as they died down. She watches as Death waits quietly for those who delay their endings. They all seem so close, as if Death was only a little away from them. The moans of pain were like screams to the gladiator’s ear. It’s like a constant roaring that will never end.
Summerland is a place far from here, it seems. The warrior walks still, she glooms over thoughts of the horizon. She glanced over thoughts of a better place, one where Death will never be present. She thinks up a place where she won’t have to fight.
She suddenly came upon a gate of golden arches. It lay already open, as if expecting her arrival. She knew that Death still followed her like a thief in the shadows. His steel cold breath was on her neck like a sickness. She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew that she had to flee from this place. Her feet suddenly became posses and ran her through the golden gate. Once she was through, she looked back to see if Death had followed her. Alas, he was gone. She was left alone. Just the little flame dancer.
Courting Death
By Monika Balfanz
“I went insane after long intervals of horrible sanity” As Edgar Allen Poe remarks, I surely agree that insanity has come easy for me after spending time with the mundane of this materialistic world. I don’t think when Mommy dearest was looking down at a cutesy little blond baby with dove eyes she imagined that her child would become anything like me. I’ve somehow transformed from that chubby little cherub into a skinny, pale, red-head who is lost within this chaotic world. I don’t think Mommy would think I would have such a deep understanding of Death and his nature of courting the naive either.
Yes, eighth grade is when you’re supposed to feel on top of the world. Finally, you’ve made it to the top of the food chain, at least until next year. Celebrate when you can, because it won’t last long for soon you’re going to be at the bottom yet again. Funny, I must have skipped that part and went straight to the drama of older years. It’s amazing what lengths you will go to when under stress. Crazy stupid things happen when you don’t want to feel anything anymore. You look for things to save you from the pain of emotions and this thing that I had never really experienced before called stress.
Death had started his courting in the middle of eighth grade, when I was at my most vulnerable and naïve state. Fitting in wasn’t really a problem for me. It was the staying in that state without feeling like I was lying to everyone including myself that was. Everyday left me feeling cheated for not being able to be myself. I had to like things that I truly didn’t like. I had to hate things that I thought were actually cool. It was a masquerade of my being.
At that point, that’s when the pain killers started to work their addicting cyanide poison into my bloodstream. It was quite an accident the first time. Death had quickly embraced me when I wasn’t paying attention. His icy numbing power made me feel invincible. Bravery suddenly wasn’t very hard to find, even when the bravest mundanes would feel fear stepping outside of their box, I was ready to jump. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so lost within this world anymore. However, it took me years to realize that the icy numb feeling of painkillers would slowly turn into the frozen grip of Death ensnaring me.
After only a few months, shamelessly addiction engulfed my life like wildfires within a dry forest. I was so addicted to the feeling of Death’s touch that I would strive for higher and higher dangerous levels. I would always survive. I was only able to work my addiction down to two hour intervals until I would start to feel the hunger of desire. The withdrawal was a sickness that only the painkillers could cure. I had turned from a simple little girl into a shaky, distant, insomniac addict who needed help. My pride didn’t give me room to ask for it, for I never felt like I needed help, at least in my mind frame at the time. I didn’t feel the realization of the severity of the problem until one of my friends ended up in the hospital.
I think I probably would have died if not for this friend. She had always been there for me. I call her my Meimei (which means little sister in Chinese) She had known about the problem and was trying to help me, despite my protests. When push came to shove, she was always there for me. When snakes of withdrawal started to bite, Meimei was there to scare them away. The irony is that when she started to have a problem herself, my addiction blinded me. She tried to understand why I did what I did and I tried to explain it to her. I explained the places I would go to when I was sleeping off the numbness. I would tell her how I never felt any of the pain from the stupid drama that always surrounded me. I told her how in the world, in which I found solace that Death was there with his promising touch of release and comfort. I told her how he promised to end the pain. Neither of us realized that it was just Death sweet talking me into his grasp.
Never in my mind, did I think that she would take it to heart. She tried to imitate and almost ended up dead because of it. She was my friend and she almost died because of me. I still have residual feelings that tell me that I might have well have shoved the pills down her throat, for in her mind I was making it alright for her by justifying my reasons for taking it. . I rushed to the hospital with images in my mind. It should have been me. How could I let this happen to my friend, my sister? Why was I so stupid to get myself addicted in the first place? Is she going to be alright? I could not stop the tears from falling, but even the tears felt shameful. I was the reason she almost died.
I think that was the rudest wake-up call I had ever received. Yes, I had ODed too many times, but it didn’t count until she actually did. I had only known the gentle touch of Death as he embraced me when the venom touched my veins. It wasn’t until then that I saw the deadly grasp of his true side. I could handle anything happening to me, but when it almost killed my sister, I should well have died. Right before that, Death didn’t really scare me. I guess I saw him as a welcomed friend, as emotional as that sounds. I didn’t really fear him until that point when I realized that my best friend in this big crazy world could have disappeared forever.
Mommy never would have understood. I know she wouldn’t have. When I saw Meimei lying in that hospital bed, sickly pale with fright, I felt as if my world was getting smaller. After yelling at her for being so stupid, which I admit at that time was quite hypocritical of me, I finally sat down by myself and cried. The truth of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks and had left quite a bruise upon my mind. I knew I had to fix it.
It took me quite a while to get over my pride and ask for help. Months went by and I just ignored the problem, or at least tried to. It was always in the back of my mind. Memories of the phone call from the hospital floated around in the cobwebbed corners of my memory. Then a breakthrough was made. I had accidentally taken a little too much after school and one of my friends caught me before I hit the ground.
Breaking down isn’t all glamour and soap-opera inspiring. At least not always. It seemed silly when it was happening and quite comical right after I was done. I broke down and told my friend everything. That was when I started to feel the sunny rays of recovery. They always say that the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. I think I definitely jumped through that step with my eyes close. Suddenly Death’s appeal was starting to fade. He no longer gave me the adrenaline rush that once engulfed my life with it’s poisonous nature. Occasionally he would afflict me with nosebleeds and dizzy spells, courtesy of withdrawal symptoms. The pain from the withdrawal leaves me feeling like my insides are eating themselves. I struggle through it though, because I know I can never go back.
2 years and a couple months later, I stand today a different person. I stand as a recovered person. Yes, many times over the past 2 years I had relapsed and traveled back to the dark place that had once captured my mind, body, and soul, but now I stand as a person who knows better. I know the dangerous lure of touching Death and running into his embrace. His courting doesn’t touch me anymore. My understanding of Death has changed quite a bit in the past couple years and now I realize that he is just a sneaky fox who needs to keep his hands to himself.
Gama( Not done)
Take a lot of Polish words and phrases. Add a bit of Scottish features. Dash in some Philly accent. Sprinkle some Catholic superstitions. Stir it all together and heat it with love. Voila, my Gama.
My Gama is the picturesque of oddness. Just imagine any typical little old polish grandmother. Her salt-and pepper hair is always poufy like a loofah. Her “Bedroom eyes.” (As she once told me people used to call them) look into your soul with such tenderness that would always make me just want to go run away with Gama. Gama could take care of me forever and ever. Gama could take on the world and any of the big scary monsters within it.
Her Polak nose always struck me as odd. It is bigger then most noses, I would suppose. It was just odd, but Gama is always beautiful to me, of course. She just had a funny Polak nose. Polak, for those of you who do not know what the term, is descriptive specifically for people of Polish descent, but it has long been forgotten as being a slur. My Gama even uses it teasingly. Yes, my Gama has wrinkles, as any grandmother must have, for it is a requirement of getting older. I love her wrinkles. I always remember that with every wrinkle there was a laugh. The laugh lines around her mouth used to fascinate me as a child.
Yes, I remember being Gama’s baby, even though I was the oldest of all my cousins on my mother’s side. I could get away with sitting on her lap, until I was almost 13. Gama was always my playmate with me when I was younger. Gama taught me how to play Old Maid and Goldfish. She would play with me and my dolls, and even be brave enough to let me braid her hair. Her hair always ended up looking like, “buckwheat” (As she affectionately teases me about)
When I was little, I never really thought about where Gama came from, I just knew that she was Gama and that I was her baby. I knew that I could get anything I wanted if I just batted my eyelashes enough, and if that didn’t work( as if that was often) I would cry my eyes out until I got what I wanted. I didn’t even know what she was until I got to middle school. I figured that her maiden name, Sinclair, was Scottish, so I did some research. I mostly found my interest there. I spent hours looking over papers written on the history of the Sinclair’s. I read how William Sinclair built the great Roslyn Chapel. I read on how Sinclair’s were pretty important in Scotland, being one of the largest clans. As I read of knight, kilts, and chapels, I couldn’t help but ask myself, Gama really comes from these people?
Gama was always my superhero when I was little. She was there to combat the evil monsters of my nightmares, under my bed, and even the extremely nasty ones in my closet. She would charge at them with such intensity that I was sure that no monster would want to face MY Gama. Once I got older, Gama started to lose a grip on her superhero cape, but once I started to research where Gama came from, I realized that Gama was still a superhero and that she was suddenly my hero again. I wanted to discover every little part of Gama’s life. Gama became awesome.
Gama is Philly-born through and through. Don’t mess with Gama when an Eagles game is on, for she will not hesitate to knock you out of the way of the TV. She would always tell me of how she would have to walk to school in feet of snow and walk back home. Philly never closed it’s schools, 2 feet of snow there is a casual normal thing. When Gama was living in Philly, she went to a Catholic school, at least until eighth grade, which I have to admit shocked even me. It made me realize why she was so harsh on me to get good grades and to stay in school.
Fear
As Fear surrounds me, I feel the walls closing in. She engulfs me with her claws of pain and torture. Am I really? Could I possibly be? i hope and pray to the Mother Goddess everynight, hoping that I'm not. I sit up all night and cry, sleep seems like a gateway to Hell as of now,. Fear brings me nightmares when she comes on her nightly visits. She brings nightmares filled with blood and Death, filled with the pain of loss and pain from a child.
Suddenly, she lays surrounded, on the floor and covered in blood. Whose blood? Her own and the blood of an innocent not yet born. There is so much of it. It seems as if she might drown in it, like the little one before her. She stares down at the mutliated form, it's dead eyes are locked against hers, as if trying to steal her very soul away and take it into the darkness. She sits there and stares at the form on the floor, no longer moving and covered with blood. She sits there and cries. She cries and cries until there atre no more tears left within her body. The little girl that cried a whole river and drowned the whole world. The little girl and her dead baby.
She dances.
She dances in the sunshine. she dances in the moon.
She dances in the feilds, high in the middle of noon.
She loves him with a passion, brighter then a fire,
His love for her takes them higher and higher
One moment of pleasure, loss of self control.
now she wonders, has she sold her soul?
Will he still love her, will he still care
and if she carries, will he still be there?
Can she go through with it, can she survive.
is there a chance for the love to revive?
she shakes in the morning, she cries in the moon.
She just wants this to be over soon.
Will he still love, will he still hold,
or has their love gone cold?
will she still dance, will he still care?
Will he still be forever there?
Hollow’s Forest
By Monika Balfanz
Part One: The White Rabbit
It is in the vicinity of midday when you march into the forest. It was a simple task, you carry on in mind. Just a small delivery of a few goods, nothing but a few hours of walking through the woods. It wouldn’t be dark for quite a while, yes, not for a rather a long while. You keep telling yourself that Auntie will gladly have your Uncle or one of your cousins drive you back home, once you get there….If you get there… No! No! To be paranoid about a few trees and a bit of old moss seems ludicrous, especially when the sun is high in the sky and Hollow’s Forest is nothing but a place thriving with beautiful wildlife. Yes, truth be told, it is know to frighten even the bravest of men, when ventured into at hours of darkness, but the sun is at a standstill up in the sky. You have nothing to fret about. Right?
Yes, you venture in with your head held elevated. Your baked goods are snug in their containers in your pack. The warm aromas of spicy cinnamon and banana seep into the air around you as you walk along the straightforward path. Whispers of dust fill your footsteps as your feet shuffle along the traveler’s way. Yes, keep moving, that’s it. Don’t stop moving and you’ll will certainly get there before Dark comes with her unknown mist of mystery and vulnerability. Slowly a breeze creeps and makes its way down your spine. In effect, you pull the crimson red shawl closer to block out the unwanted intruder from your flesh.
The sounds of far off animals can be heard all around. The croaking of toads from the swampy marsh pond a few yards off echo like a chorus of tribal drums. The twittering of little birds makes it sound as if you walked into a minuscule urban city of some sort. The far off pitter-patter of, what you hope to be modest fox mothers and their kits, crackles leaves gently. You pay the sound no mind, as you are determined to not let your obsession get the best of you. No, you have to focus on getting to Auntie’s house. You had no time to worry about such ridiculous things such as the trickery of your superstitious psyche.
Deep in the forest, he watches and waits. The sweet smell of sandalwood and cinnamon tickles his snout like a feather in the carefree wind. The fur on his spine rises are he takes in the sight of his helpless quarry. He was hungry and she was wandering freely into his abode. He couldn’t take her yet though. It would be too simple, too easy. Yes, he was above taking the easy route. He’d have to wait until dark, he’d have to keep her within his grounds until then. Oh, how he loved the chase. Slowly, his sweet howl escaped from his snout lips like it was the sweetest note in his surreal world. She reminded him of Alice, lost in the twisted Wonderland of his Hollow’s Forest. She was surreally stuck in the distortion that she was out of harm's way. She was definitely mistaken, for this White Rabbit had teeth. His lips turned up into a sly grin at his own thoughts, watching his Alice dart deeper into his territory. The darkness was approaching, he could see, for the sun had begun to sink.
You hear him even before you see him. You don’t even truly see him before you start to kick up dust in your wake. The bone-chilling banshee howl of a wolf was enough to give you incentive to run into the unknown parts of the forest, off the well traveled path. You see a flash of white as your peripherals start to blur, speed twisting everything around you. Red crimson flies behind you as your shawl catches the self-made wind as you whirl through the forest, which for some reason had become murky with strange shadows. The darkness increases as you run farther and farther through the old oak spines. You keep going and going, it seems as if the forest was endless. Then you see it, your rescue.
The old spine of an oak was covered with what seemed to be hundreds of years of grey Spanish moss. At first glance, it could knock the sturdiest off their feet out of fear. It does seem as if the ghostly shadow of a plant might come out and grip you like a grim boogieman in the night, but you have no time to consider that now. Darkness is pulling her raven black blanket all around you and you still have yet to see what creatures are lurking within her. You run to climb the atrocity. You waste no time as you triumph over the lowest branches, pulling yourself up higher and higher.
“Oh, dear Alice. What a folly you have made now, waking the Heart Queen, or should I say the Heartless Queen of oHHollow’s Forest. The Great Oak Mother will not take kindly to you climbing her as if she were a simple sapling. This I am acquainted with very well. Oh, dear Alice, what naïve foolishness… Maybe the Great Oak Mother will leave you alive long enough for me to play with... Perhaps. If not, then it would be quite a pity.“ The wolf watches
Higher and higher you scale, your skirt catching on several branches along the way. It has become torn in many places, resembling more of a ripped rag then any sort of garment. The old oak seems to continue unto the sky, you realize as it seems to never run out of branches to ascend. You take no mind, as every branch is a barrier between yourself and whatsoever may lurk within the murky bottom floor of Hollow’s Nightmare Forest. It soon becomes so sinister, as to the ground becomes invisible like a bottomless pit of horrendous black. Falling seems like it would become an endless delusion. No, a nightmare. Then the world shakes….
Your footing all of a sudden fails you and your screams resonance throughout all Hollow’s Forest. A tornado sensation surrounds you like a black hole, twisting and spiraling you every which way that it possibly can. Keeping your eyes open suddenly becomes a tiring responsibility as your mind fights a secret battle of consciousness with your body. . Your heart is beating so rapid that it feels as if it might combust. Darkness engulfs you with her consoling blanket as you completely black out into the night.
“Yummy, yummy. Told you my Dearie. “The wolf licks his chops as the sound of a thud booms to his ears. His quarry has met her match. The Great Oak Mother threw Alice off of her branches and tossed her like a bug. “I guess dinner is served. Here, Alice, want to see the white rabbit” The wolf approaches.
You awake on the wet grassland of the forest floor. Your head aches with a pain of a thousand jackhammers pounding into it. The foliage towers up past your head, about two feet. Your feet are hidden from even your view. You can see the darkness above your head and the jungle of jade that lays all around you, but that seems to be it. Suddenly, your breath becomes harder and harder to catch. What may play within the maze of grass?
The height of the grass provides perfect concealment for the wolf as he slips within the vast grasslands. He allows another howl to ring throughout the forest like a siren’s call.
“Just wait for me, my Alice. The White Rabbit is coming. “
Once the howl reaches your ears, you struggle to pull yourself together and get your footing. The creature was back. You have to get out of the forest, but as soon as you stand up, you look up to find that the grass seems to have grown even taller, now towering above your head as you stand. You deduce that it must have been some optical allusion that you were seeing when you were lying down. Confusion swarms through your mind, but you quickly forget it as you suddenly hear the whisper of grass moving. You know that the movement did not come from you. Your heart suddenly seems to feel like it might burst. Dizziness overtakes you as you spin around, trying to figure out which direction the sound was coming from.
“Ah, Alice. No running? Tisk Tisk. No matter, though. “The wolf circles the perimeter that the girl set up by circling her little spot. He pants in excitement for the prospect of his prey. The girl suddenly stopped and the wolf saw his opportunity. He jumped.
Your scream resonates for yards around. The creature jumps you from behind, pinning you to the ground with such force that you find it impossible to get up, let alone get out from under the giant wolf. You scream as the feeling of the creature nipping violently at your back and shoulders send pain searing throughout your whole body. You can hear the tearing of fabric as the creature begins to pull at your top, exposing new flesh, in which he would then in turn begin to bite into as well. This goes on, until you can no longer retain consciousness, blackness overtakes you yet again.
“Oh, Alice. Wake up my dear. I know you are not dead yet. I can hear your heartbeat. “The wolf licks the red of her back and grabs the scruff of the girl and drags her into the jungle…..
The feeling of fur rubbing against you is what awakens you from your deep slumber. Warmth engulfs you, as if a flame was right in front of you. Slowly, your eyes open. You are immediately greeted with the sight of what woke you, fur, and lots of it. White coat covers your eyes, your body, your arms and legs are immobile. Summer rain is the permeated scent that you connect with behemoth of pelt on top of you. You attempt to budge several times, to no avail. You suddenly begin to panic as memories of what occurred before you blacked out fill your cerebral. The creature still has you pinned. You grimace as the pain from the bites begins to seep. It feels as if someone has set your back on fire. Suddenly, the creature stirs.
“Ah, has Sleeping Beauty awakened?” The wolf smiles to himself, his ears twitch in excitement. He lay on top of her to prevent his Alice from escaping while he slept, at least that was part of the reason that he laid on top of her. He also was quite fond of her scent. She smells deeply of cinnamon and sandalwood. Now that he was awake and alert, he pulled off of her.
“Good Morning, Dearie.”
Fear overtakes you as you watch the words roll off the creature’s lips, or snout, or whatever. Wait, you realize it’s a wolf, so it’s a snout. It’s not like you really wanted to focus on it’s mouth area anyways, with all those pretty shiny fangs. Are hallucinations finally setting in? Are you going senile? A wolf talking was really not described in the venue for today.
“Wha… What?” Your voice is barely audible to even your ears.
“I said, good morning. “ The wolf simply replied. Then he considered for a moment. “Do you understand English? You understand English, right?” He sits calmly and statuesque in front of the girl, watching her intently with his silver eyes as if he was trying to peer into her soul.
You stood on your knees, the den hollow (the place the wolf seems to call home and dragged her to) was too small for her to stand comfortably. Your back, though bruised and battered, is tightly pressed against the wall farthest away from the creature.
“Why, of course I speak English. “ You reply, wondering why you are replying to an animal that had no business asking if you spoke English. He is the one who shouldn’t be talking. The wolf just watches you. He just sits and watches.
“Well, then what is your problem?” The wolf cocked his head to the side.” Are you hungry Alice? I brought you some rabbit.” The wolf picks up a dead carcass from the other side of the den and drops it in front of you, using his nose to edge it closer to you. “Eat up, you need your strength. It seems that you have to plead with the Great Oak mother for forgiveness. “He goes back to the other side of the den and sits.
“Who?” You ask as you look down at the posthumous rabbit. A grimace graces your face as you witness the blood ooze out of the poor creature. Crimson liquid smeared the white fur of the rabbit a pink color, dieing the creature completely. “And why do I need to plead for her forgiveness? Also, why are you being nice to me? Aren’t you the one who knocked me to the ground and attacked me?”
“The Great Oak Mother, the mother of the forest. The Heartless Queen. She was the one who tossed you to the ground, when you tried to climb her. Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners? Trees have feelings too and you just had to climb the Queen. Now, you must plead for her forgiveness in order to get out of here in one piece, preferably all attached. “ The wolf snorted and licked his lips, which sent a chill down your spine. ” Tell me, do you have any sense? I do admit that it was I who attacked you, but I figure if the Queen kills you, I won’t get any chance to play with my prey, so count your blessings MaryAnn.”
“I think I’ll pass on the rabbit. Thanks.” You reply. “Alright, just grovel and I’ll get out of here?” You begin to look for an opening to the den, determined to get out and get to the Queen as quickly as possible. You wanted to return to normalcy. Then you realize something.” Why do you call me Mary Ann?”
I’ll have to go with you or else you will never find her. She is never in the same place for very long. Now that she knows that you traverse within her domain, you might ant to have at least one of her loyal subjects as a guide in order to keep her from sending the guards on you.” The wolf stated as he followed you, nipping at your ankle, apparently you were moving too slowly for him, he decided to completely avoid the question about Alice.
You shrug, not wanting to press anymore questions on a creature with teeth sharp enough to rip you to shreds.
“Let us find this Great Oak Mother then, shall we?”
Part 2: The Cheshire Cat
You walk for a while with the wolf, who seemingly still has the wicked habit of calling you Alice.
“Why do you insist on calling me that? That is not my name, I am Sarah.” You affirm. The wolf looks up at you an unusual expression.
“Well, my dear. It is simply like this. You are like the fabled Alice stuck in this Wonderland that is called Hollow Forest and I am your White Rabbit.” The wolf continued on. They were back in the towering grasslands, the foliage was still up past the girl’s head.
You halt midstride, shocked at the realization that a wolf would know the story of Alice in Wonderland, but then again that very same wolf was speaking to you and you could understand him. Very strange indeed. It is also for the reason that he still has those pointed teeth that you don’t want to press the matter any further. Oh yeah, those teeth. Your feet seem to find themselves walking again. The bites on your back still make you wince as you stride along in your jungle. The wolf stops in front of you, seemingly for not any reason at all.
“What is it then, Mr. White Rabbit?” The annoyance is reflected in your tone.
The Wolf hears a distant sound, unknown to the girl’s ears.
“Someone is coming, or rather something. “ His lips are pulled back in a snarl, showing his pretty white teeth. He crouches down, ready to pounce on anything that might come anywhere near them.
You start to feel the panic build up within you.
“Oh, no. Not something else. As if this nightmare could become any worse.” You start to complain but your tongue suddenly finds itself tangled and at a loss for words. You hear something, probably what the wolf was hearing. It was the sound of something moving within the grass. Neither you nor the wolf was moving and it sounded like it was getting closer and closer. That meant that you were about to either make a new friend or be made into supper.
The creature’s eyes were the first thing that you saw peering out of the grass.
They were pure yellow like some cyanide poison. The wolf doesn’t seem to notice the eyes watching you, but you can see then clear as day. They just seem to watch you for about what seems to be ten minutes, but it was probably shorter. They don’t even blink. Suddenly, the glistening of white shows. Is it smiling at you? Is there some crazy creature in the grass, with what seems to be a nice set of jaws, smiling at you? And you thought that this place couldn’t get any weirder. Suddenly, a flash of white flashes in front of you, even before you could call out to the creature, which probably would have been a bad idea anyways. The white flash turns out to be your knight in shining armor, Mr. White Rabbit.
“Save your smile for something a little less tasty, shall you?” The wolf snarls as he pins the black cat to the ground. His teeth make contact with neck of the feline, threatening to snap it in half like a small twig. The cat laughs, or was it choking. No one could really tell, perhaps a little bit of both.
“Why, I was just admiring the pretty poppet that climbed the Great Queen, you loopy lupine. “ The cat lazily replied. His grin was still plastered on his face and his eyes were still stuck in their analyzing gaze. His black fur shook as he laughed, as if there was some joke in his head that he had forgotten to tell.
You back up, not wanting to get involved with either of the two huge creatures who could both probably eat you whole, shredded skirt and all.
“You’ll pay no mind to her, she’s not for you. I have already laid my claim on her and you will do good to forget about any thoughts that you might have. I have to take her to the great Queen then I shall do with her what I wish. “The wolf eased off of his opponent’s throat. “ So, I take it the whole forest already knows of what my dear Alice has gone and done?” The wolf asked the jaguar, completely releasing him.
“Why, of course my compadre. You know how the trees love to gossip, and it has been quite a while since anyone has ventured here after dark. “The black jaguar got to his feet. “ Alright, monsieur, I’ll keep that in mind, but take heed to keep her close. You know how the queen’s guards are everywhere.”
“Yes, I’ll keep that in mind, now go and don’t waste a minute.” The jaguar was gone.
You were stuck on the part about the trees gossiping, and to admit, that was a pretty interesting thought. You shrugged off the part about the jaguar talking, for the reason that if the wolf could talk, why couldn’t the big kitty cat talk as well. You also barely caught the last part about the guards being everywhere, which made you look around you as swift paranoia sunk in a little deeper then it had been before.
“Can’t we just get to this Great Oak Mother person before I go insane?”
Teen Vogue interview of Trebmuh, the White Wolf from Hollow’s Forest
The interviewer watches as the White Wolf stalks into what his co-workers affectionately call the “Interrogation Room.” The White Wolf positions himself comfortably in front of the chair that the interviewer is sitting in and sits down on his back paws.
Interviewer; Alright, let’s begin with the basics. Where were you born?
[The wolf huffs, as if taking a deep breath]
Trebmuh; Ah, well I was born in the twisted magic of hollow’s Forest. I was made of the harsh wind and infinite darkness that haunts it’s black spines. [The wolf seems to be smiling, as if trying to taunt the interviewer, scaring him with his descriptions]
Interviewer; Alright, so a bad environment. What about your mother? How was your relationship with her?
[The wolf is silent for a moment, as if trying to recall something.]
Trebmuh; My mother? What about her? In order to have a relationship with my mother, I would have had to have found her within the eighty years of my life. I haven’t seen my mother since the day that she abandoned me. I was barely two weeks old. The old queen of the forest, Marishkah took me in as her own and cared for me. She was my mother, or at least as close to one that I have ever had.
Interviewer; Oh, how nice…. And your father?
[The wolf shrugs]
Interviewer; Hm… Alright. Moving on, how was living with the old reigning queen of the forest?
Trebmuh; Living with her? She wasn’t very demanding as far as queens go. She requested very little from her subjects. She only wanted loyalty and peace throughout her kingdom. She was quite nice. She gifted all of her people with the power of speech, most liked her for that….
Interviewer; Alright… but what about your relationship with her? Where you two close? Were you two more then just bodyguard and queen?
[The wolf stares at the interviewer, his eyes are starting to turn silver, to match his fur.]
Trebmuh; If you are trying to infer that we had a sexual relationship, then you would be wise to curb your tongue. We were like mother and son that it is.
Interviewer; Alright [The Interviewer seems to have gotten nervous] what about your connection to this exile, Sarah person? What are the rumors with her?
[The wolf’s eyes grow wide, as if not expecting the question.]
Trebmuh; Oh, her? She’s nothing. I have no idea what you are talking about.
Interviewer; Oh, really? [The Interviewers smiles sinisterly as he pulls out some papers, showing them to the wolf.] Then what is with the reports of a warranted search of your den? Apparently, they found a red cape, baked goods, and torn female garments. How do you explain that?
[The wolf’s mouth drops.]
Trebmuh; Oh, you see… I…. I plead the fifth?
Lover Letter
By Monika Balfanz
It was a sad day when Miss Marie Howards was found dead in her very own kitchen. She was the sweetest old lady, if anyone had asked any of her neighbors about her. When her funeral procession proceeded down the streets, you would have thought the whole city had taken a day off to mourn the death of this lady. Car after car glided down Virginia Beach Boulevard. It must have taken at least thirty minutes for every car to get through so that the rest of the city could continue with their day.
The funeral ceremony had been one of a grandeur scale. Flowers seemed to sprout out of the cracks in the church. A chorus on wounded angels seemed to cry as words were said in remembrance of this great lady. It was greatly emphasized on how great of an asset to the city of Virginia Beach she was, leaving out the fact that ten years ago she had suddenly lost it and became hermit in nature. It was mentioned on how she helped out the Lady’s Circle in her church with feeding the homeless and building shelters for the abandoned children and abused mothers of the city. She was hailed as the City’s great mother. She took care of Virginia Beach’s children and raised money to help provide funding for schools to provide better education.
Her whole life story was portrayed like a fairytale out of a children’s book. It was remarked on how she had a hard childhood. Her mother was a single parent, working two jobs to just make ends meet. The mayor explained on how Miss Marie used education to get out of her situation. Miss Marie strived to be better then what her childhood was. She pushed herself into college and got a good degree. She then came back and worked to try and better the lives of other children in the community. To the whole city, she seemed like a hero in old woman’s clothing.
Her lady friends remarked on how strong she was when her husband Howard was found murdered in his office. He was found by his secretary dead with three puncture wounds to his neck. Miss Marie was heart-broken and declared that the entire police force and its resources be put to use in finding her husband’s killer. The mayor, keeping in mind that Miss Marie was a great influence when it came to persuading the people of the city, agreed to her request. Many months were spent in search for clues. The paper printed ads, requesting for any information as to the circumstances of the murder, hoping that some shy witness or even just a tiny bit of information would show up. The only clues that they had were the three puncture wounds that appeared on his neck. No one could think up what they could have been caused from. Houses of suspected individuals were searched, hoping to find something three pronged, but no luck.
Police were utterly stuck….
Two months after everyone gave up hope of finding any killers, Miss Marie locked herself within her home. She only ventured out to go the grocery store. Even there, she barely spoke to anyone. She would scare the little ones with just the glance of her critical eyes. She became like the boogieman of the city. For ten years, no one spoke with her. Parents would tell their children not to stay out too late or that the old crazy lady that lived up the road would come and get them.
Why did they call her crazy? It is said that she is cursed. Her whole family is. For, her father died the same way in which her husband did, although the police didn’t take into accountant of that supernatural mumbo jumbo. It is said that all the woman of her family are destined to outlive their husbands and become widows at an early age. Her father was found in his bedroom, stabbed in the stomach. They object that was used to kill him was three pronged as well. The police considered it just a coincidence, but the older families of Virginia Beach knew better. It was rumored that Miss Marie’s great-great-great grandfather had gone to New Orleans and had made a faulty deal with a Hoodoo Priestess, which turned out to backfire against him when he tried to con the priestess. He was to have nothing but female children and they were all to outlive their husbands. Most policemen from older families decided not to really get involve, for fear that the dreaded Murphy Curse might reach out to them.
Miss Emily had no other living relatives when she died, the lawyers were puzzled as to what her Will might say. They all about cried tears of sentiment when they read that everything that miss Emily owned was to go to Charity, specifically charity to help out children. Her house was immediately opened the next day in order to take stock of her belongings. Many of the Lady’s Circle members had come to help the labor men, making snacks and drinks for them. The house was covered in dust and cobwebs. It was also filled with quite a few priceless antiques. Huge portraits of family members were displayed above fireplaces and in every room. They were all in almost perfect condition.
A huge decorative vase was placed over the mantle of the largest fireplace in the house. It’s baroque design laid covered in gold and dust. Everyone in the house immediately knew what it was, it was her husband’s Urn. It was understandable that it was still there. As the Ladies worked to try and clean out the kitchen, removing old and moldy food from the fridge and cleaning out the pantry to go to the homeless shelter. The reminisced over memories of Miss Marie. They tried their hardest to remember Howard as well, but it was hard, seeing as they were only married for two months before his untimely death. One lady, her next door neighbor, Miss Clarice, had taken the tack of cleaning the silverware and found a very pretty fork, or at least she was pretty sure it was pretty, underneath all the tarnish. She had tried everything to try and remove it, but to no avail. She was pulling out the silverware holder when suddenly a piece of paper fell out from the bottom of it. She picked it up carefully and unfolded it. It seemed to have been written recently.
Dear ladies and gentlemen,
I present you the case of Miss Marie Murphy. If you are reading this, then most likely I have died. I couldn’t take it anymore. No, I am not talking about any stupid curse, like there was much of one to begin with. My name is Marie Murphy and I can honestly tell you that the curse did not kill the men who wedded the Murphy woman, I can tell you that. The curse only gave us the bad luck of wedding the must disloyal men in existence. The woman just simply killed them. This silly curse started with my great grandfather and it has ended with me. Goodbye.
With love,
Miss Marie Murphy.
P.s. Might not want to use those forks ever again. It’s not tarnish.
Hatter Mad
By Monika Balfanz
Hatter Mad, Hatter Mad, what a silly dream you live
Roses hunter green lay within you silk hat top
You dash and dance through the party unbirth
And you sing and proclaim death happy
Hatter Mad, Hatter Mad, and your mouse cup tea you tip and toss
Twist and turn, turn and twist your bonnet round
Cotton and satin stains wine blood as you climb madness rapidly
Tutu you sway back and forth, declaring death happy
Declare unbirth merry
When not busy being born, too busy dying
Unhappy day-birth.
4/21/08
Daddy had been gone for quite a while, or so Mommy had told me. I had yet to finally meet him, I had yet to see that he wasn’t just an imaginary man in mommy’s mind. Mommy showed me pictures and oh, how I stayed glued to them. I always had them with me. I would stare at them for hours upon hours. These pictures would show a giant of a man with cinnamon brown hair. His eyes reminded me of chocolate. He had muscles that reminded me of Pope-Eyed Pete the sailor, but I still wondered in the back of my mind if he was real.
It had been a normal kindergarten day. I was walking down our dead-end street back home. My little Scooby-Doo backpack bounced on my back followed by my blond piggy-tails. I hadn’t thought about Daddy in quite a while. I remember asking Mommy where Daddy was, a while before, but she used a lot of words that I didn’t understand. Deployment. Stationed. Sailor. None of these were very comprehensible to me. Anyways, I was walking home and all of a sudden I see that there is this big man in the middle of our street. I mean, right smack in the middle. It wasn’t like he was going to get hit or anything, but why would someone just stand in the middle of the street for no apparent reason. As far as I could see, he was standing in front of my house.
Baby Jaguar
By Monika Balfanz
Little baby jaguar stalking in the mid-night
Camouflaged in darkness, hidden from their sight
Angel roar resounds throughout the darkened playground
A little child comes out to play with curiosity unbound
Tasting scarlet blood running through the earth
Searching old places of his mother’s birth
Splashing in the water deep with the bugs as his best friends
Muddy paw prints trek through the dirty bends
Lapping at the kisses of sweet dew drops laid for him
Play time that lasts forever, hoping it will never cease
Dancing into the Moon Mother’s embrace
keeping with the ancient predator chase.
Part of me is a little jaguar child
Age brings me to this deep, dark, wild,
Dear Friend
Can you feel my tears,
Hit the mourning Earth?
Dear friend of mine, Death
Embraces you child.
Family and friends
Gather in black clouds
Can you see the smiles
They force outwardly?
They appear as if
They can not mourn you.
Viewing unneeded,
Unwanted, right now.
To remember you,
As you were before.
Mother Earth mourns loss,
Her dear child is gone,
Can you hear her call
Out your name in vain?
My friend, paradise
Welcomes you sweetly
Can you hear the Earth
Mourn her loss of life?
Can you feel my tears
Hit the mourning Earth?
Can you hear me cry
Out your name in vain?
The Tango Dancer
The Tango dancer is without a care,
Twirling and swirling to the swift beat,
The music electrifies the sweet air.
Moving in ways that no one else would dare,
Her burgundy flower skirt flies up high
The tango dancer is without a care
She only laughs, silly men stop and stare,
They will never work up the confidence.
The music electrifies the sweet air
Two by two, they separate into pair
Alone she dances, not needing a man,
The tango dancer is without a care,
Her eyes are of a variety rare,
Deep black onyx that stare into your soul
The music electrifies the air,
She wishes that this night will never end
Beats that last eternally within her,
The tango dancer is without a care
The music electrifies the sweet air.
Hollow's Forest, redone. * not finished*
It was in that twisted place named Hollow’s Forest where I found the true meaning of wonderland. It was a place where the trees contorted to their moods and the birds sang songs instead of chirping. Shadows move and follow to their hearts content. Flowers stare and ponder their fates with vanity and egotism. Rabbits obsess and pedophile jaguars speak French. Smoky dragons speak in riddles and tea parties celebrate death. Also, keep an eye out for those demented tree queens that are out to get you……
Ladies and gentlemen… Welcome to Hollow’s Forest.
It was in Hollow’s Forest that I descended reality into what I like to call a little dose of surrealism. I had to cross through that stupid forest. I was on my way to my aunt’s house and the forest was the only way to get there in less than two hours. In my pack laid the little pastries that my mother had baked for my aunt. The warm aromas of spicy cinnamon and banana seep into the air around me as I walked along the straightforward path. Whispers of dust filled my footsteps as my feet shuffled along the traveler’s way. Yes, keep moving, that’s it. Don’t stop moving and I will certainly get there before Dark comes with her unknown mist of mystery and vulnerability. Slowly a breeze crept and made its way down my spine. In effect, I pulled the crimson red shawl closer to block out the unwanted intruder from my flesh. I wasn’t afraid, even though I had been told ever since I could listen that hollow’s Forest was haunted. Yeah right.
The sounds of far off animals could be heard all around. The croaking of toads from the swampy marsh pond a few yards off echo like a chorus of tribal drums. The twittering of little birds made it sound as if I walked into a minuscule urban city of some sort. The far off pitter-patter of, what I hoped to be modest fox mothers and their kits, crackles leaves gently. I paid the sound no mind, as I was determined to not let my obsession get the best of me. No, I had to focus on getting to Auntie’s house. I had no time to worry about such ridiculous things such as the trickery of my superstitious psyche.
Deep in the forest, he watches and waits. The sweet smell of sandalwood and cinnamon tickles his snout like a feather in the carefree wind. The fur on his spine rises are he takes in the sight of his helpless quarry. He was hungry and she was wandering freely into his abode. He couldn’t take her yet though. It would be too simple, too easy. Yes, he was above taking the easy route. He’d have to wait until dark, he’d have to keep her within his grounds until then. Oh, how he loved the chase. Slowly, his sweet howl escaped from his snout lips like it was the sweetest note in his surreal world. She reminded him of Maryann, his love, lost in the twisted Wonderland of his Hollow’s Forest. She was surreally stuck in the distortion that she was out of harm's way. She was definitely mistaken, for this wolf had teeth. His lips turned up into a sly grin at his own thoughts, watching his prey dart deeper into his territory. The darkness was approaching, he could see, for the sun had begun to sink.
I heard him even before I saw him and I didn’t even truly wait to see him before I started to kick up dust in my wake. The bone-chilling banshee howl of a wolf was enough to give me incentive to run into the unknown parts of the forest, off the well traveled path. I saw a flash of white as my peripherals started to blur, speed twisted everything around me. Red crimson flied behind me as my shawl caught the self-made wind as I whirled through the forest, which for some reason had become murky with strange shadows. The darkness increased as I ran farther and farther through the old oak spines. I kept going and going, it seemed as if the forest was endless. Then I saw it, my rescue. True, the sight of the rough and dangerous river would probably make most stomachs turn with motion sickness, but alas it was the bridge that caught my eye. If only I could make it across. The bridge was something straight out of an Indiana Jones flick. It was small and narrow and looked as if one step might send you hurling down to the rabid rapid below, but it was my chance to get away. No way josé was Alice Summers going to be dinner tonight.
Yeah, I was scared as I took the first step across the first plank of the swinging bridge, but the howl that erupted from behind me changed that real quickly. I started to take a second step and a third, it was on the fourth step that I started to hear growling from behind me. I slowly turned around, avoiding sending myself off the bridge and faced the snarling creature.
Once my eyes met it’s eye, I couldn’t look away from the huge wolf-like creature. It didn’t completely look like a wolf because of it’s size. It was bigger then me! It looked like a rapid dog from hell and it seemed determined to make me it’s food. They were fury red like a fire truck and staring straight at me like I was a la carte. I was only able to tear my eyes away from the glowing red when suddenly one of it’s claws made a swipe at me, that’s when my breath failed me. See, I was so captivated by it’s eyes that I forgot to check if it had nails….or in this case claws that could make a big bad lion humble.
“Oh sugar snaps.” My voice whispered across the bridge, which he must have thought was funny because a grin seemed to slowly spread across its muzzle. The wolf was grinning.
Crimson Hate by Monika Balfanz
Crimson hate courses through me like a fire
Lit up in the starry rage of the night.
Your smile can only make the flames higher
You laugh even though you know I’m right.
I scream and yell to make you see a right
Nothing but violence can result in the end.
I try to change you will all my might
I need to make sense of the rules you bend
Bridges that we need to mend.
Hate is my poison, stifling my breath
Patience for you does not come by God-send.
Crimson hate driven into blood red death
Black chaos, fading into burgundy
Can’t you see the hate you pull out of me?
Heart of a Demon
By Monika Balfanz
Synopsis
Scene 1;
In the wondrous city of Inferno, in the heart of all Demon realm, , lies the castle of the Demon king, Markus. Markus is a good king to his people, but yet there are those who want him dead so that they can have the throne to themselves. Since he and his ruling queen Marishka, have yet to bear child he knows that the throne is not yet secure. He has tried many times to have his wife bear child, only to have her lose it in miscarriage.
Scene 2;
What he does not know is that his beloved queen Marishka is having an affair with Markus’s top general, Damien. Together Damien and Marishka plot the murder of Markus. One night, they meet in secret in Damien’s bedchamber. Marishka comes up with the plan to get Markus drunk and to take him back to the royal bedchamber. It is there she tells Damien that he should murder the king. Damien agrees with the idea and Marishka departs, leaving Damien to his thoughts. He contemplates the fact that he has just agreed to murder his king. What neither of them knows is that Porto, the king’s advisor has ease dropped into their conversation.
Scene 3;
Porto runs to tell the king what he has heard. At first, the king doesn’t believe him and declares him mad. Then Porto calls up a guard, who tells the king that he has seen the queen sneak into General Damien’s room many times. The King finally sees the truth and comes up with a plan.
Scene 4;
The banquet is grand and many are drinking past their due. Many of the demon generals are drunk or asleep. The banquet is loud and messy, but nonetheless, Marishka and Damien refrain from drinking. The King only pretends to be drinking, trying to appear as drunk as possible. When it is determined that the king has had enough to drink, Marishka signals to Damien, who then disappears. Marishka, with the help of a few guards, gets the king to his bedchamber. She then dismisses the guards and sits on the edge of the king’s bed. While she gentle talks in soothing voices to the drunken king, Damien sneaks into the shadows with a knife in his hand. The king sees Damien, but pretends not to notice that he is there. When Damien prepares to strike, the king rises up and grabbed the queen with a knife in his hand and holds it against her throat. He tosses the queen onto the bed and threatens her to stay there. The king tells them both that he knows of their treachery and that for their misdeeds they shall die. Marishka yells at Damien to kill Markus, but it is too late for Markus lunges for Damien. The two battle back and forth, the queen yells encouragement for Damien. As Damien defends himself, he tells the king that he didn’t want to really kill him and that it was Marishka who seduced him. The queen calls him a coward and lunges for the king herself, plunging her own hidden knife through his heart. The king dies slowly and painfully. That is when Porto comes and see the king dead. Out of rage, he swings at the queen and kills her. When he goes to kill Damien, he discovers that he is crying over Markus’s body and decides to keep him alive.
Scene 2;
[Open in a dimly lit room, General Damien is lying on his bed, in his sleeping clothes. He seems as if his is waiting for someone. Candles are laid all over the room, lit. Suddenly, the door to his room opens and a shrouded figure emerges. It is a female covered in black. Slowly she removes her shroud and goes to embrace Damien, who holds her as tightly as he can. No words are spoken for a moment as they gaze up into each other’s eyes.]
Marishka; Damien, dear. The guards are out and about tonight. I barely made it past the gardens.
[Damien gently strokes her cheek and sadly smiles.]
Damien; I wish it didn’t have to be like this, my queen. I wish we could just be together without the fear of discovery.
Marishka; But truly if we would discovery, I’m sure you know what would happen. The king would burn us both in the lake of perpetual agony.
[Damien nods]
Damien; Yes, I know my love. I just was remarking how I wish it wasn’t this way. I wish we were free to love each other without restraint. Alas, you are right, the king would never allow us to live if we were discovered.
[Marishka frees herself from his arms and starts to pace around his room, when he goes to embrace her again; she wiggles out of his arms and starts to pace yet again.]
Damien; what is on your mind woman!? What has you pacing my room like a hellcat?
[Marishka holds up her hand to shush him]
Marishka; My dear Damien if I told you there was a way that we could be together and no one would bother to question us of it?
Damien; what do you mean?
[Damien sits back down on his bed and looks at her. Marishka walks over to him and grabs his hands, holding them to her heart.]
Marishka; What if the king was no longer an issue?
[They look at each other for a moment.
Damien; You can’t mean…. You can’t possibly imply that I… Are you mad?!
[He yanks his hands from Marishka and gets up off of his bed. He begins to pace around his room. Marishka turns to face him]
Marishka; Would it be mad? Is it? …. Does it make me mad? Huh? It has been done for centuries, even before you and I were born love and….. We could be together.
[Marishka stops Damien in his tracks and kisses him softly on the lips. Damien looks down at her.]
Damien; But what you are speaking about is murder and disloyalty.
[Marishka shrugs]
Marishka; So? It’s not like it the worst crime imaginable to our kind. Would you rather just sit here and let the opportunity pass you by? Think about it, you could be king and I your queen and your alone. Wouldn’t it be magnificent?
[Damien looks into her eyes and sits back down on the bed.]
Marishka; My dear, the opportunity will be present at the banquet, the night after tomorrow. All we need to do is make sure that he drinks enough to not realize when you plunge the knife into his heart.
[Suddenly a shadow moves on the wall, a shadow the size of a man. Marishka watches it but then decides it was nothing. The curtain closes]
Pictures used;
deviantart.com
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